


The Prayer Called Arya

by maggyjenkins



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire, game of thrones
Genre: Braavos, Braime - Freeform, Children of the Forest, Dany sits the iron throne, Dorne, Dothraki, Drogon - Freeform, Essos, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Men, Fluff, Game of Thrones - Freeform, Gendrya - Freeform, Iron Throne - Freeform, Kings Landing, Old Gods, R plus L equals J, Sansa is pregnant, Sunspear, Weirwoods, Westeros, Winterfell, a lil bit of angst, faceless men - Freeform, khaleesi - Freeform, rhaegal - Freeform, seven kingdoms, the north - Freeform, three headed dragon, viserion - Freeform, winterfell crypts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-08 23:04:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8866918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maggyjenkins/pseuds/maggyjenkins
Summary: Arya Stark doesn't kiss boys, she kills them.
    Gendry Waters is making her question this motto. ~In which Arya comes back to Winterfell to Jon and Sansa after the war against Cersei Lannister is won and begins to fall for the knighted bastard son of Robert Baratheon, Gendry Waters.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first shot at writing a Gendrya fic, and this is also entirely show based. There are a few elements from the books, but not a lot, sorry to all the book fans.

Gendry Waters was done with boats.

He had rowed the little row boat in the wrong direction from Dragonstone for two fortnights before he reached the sandy shores of Dorne, his throat so parched that when the innkeeper and his wife found him lying in the sand, he could barely say "Gendry Waters" when they asked his name. They thought he was saying "Get me water". He was grateful for that misinterpretation, as they gave him a room with a featherbed in their inn, and enough food and water to allow them to realize he was ridden with a fever. There was a local young girl who worked at the inn who had nursed him back to health. She was a maid of seventeen years named was Raya. She had silky chestnut brown hair, olive skin, full lips, and had a curved figure. She was very pretty, and he could tell that she fancied him. One day, after he was well enough to work the inn's forge, Raya came to him with a supper of two plums, a fox leg, and a pitcher of water. He was pounding his hammer down on the metal that would soon become a mirror frame for the innkeepers who had granted him such wonderful hospitality.

"Hello Gendry." Raya yelled over the clanging of metal crashing against metal. He set his hammer down and looked at the Dornish girl. She was wearing her usual brown and white cook's dress with what seemed to be an altered neckline that went slightly lower than normal, exposing her cleavage. Her hair had been combed and the grime and dirt from her hands washed.

"Hello Raya. Thank you for supper." She set down the dinner tray on the small wooden table. She began to head for the door before quickly turning around and stepping towards him.

"Gendry?" Her accented voice was flooded with nervousness and he could hear it.

"Yes?" She was wringing her hands when he replied.

"I don't really know how to say this without making a complete ass of myself... Would you like to stay here? With me, I mean. Forever. I know that it's not much, but if you stayed on as a smith here, Zulo and Amalia would give us a permanent home." Gendry had thought about it for a few seconds before he looked into Raya's eyes and he was reminded. _Those eyes aren't grey,_ he thought to himself. Those eyes didn't belong to Arya Stark. The whole way back from dragonstone, he rowed every second thinking about those grey eyes and where they were at that moment.

Raya was the first that Gendry turned down before he got back on that row boat and ended up in the reach. He rowed that little boat all throughout Westeros for five years in total. Every time he stopped and was granted hospitality, there would always be a new girl, beautiful and mad about him. But each night, he dreamt of the same girl named Arya Stark. The only person who had given him a sense of family, a sense of what it felt like to belong to someone. And he had abandoned her. With each passing dream, Arya started to shed the skin of a little girl and started to turn into a woman. He knew that he shouldn't feel the way that he did towards a dead girl, but he couldn't stop his feelings. By the time that he had reached the north, there had been a few dozen Stark men fighting on the in a skirmish against some Lannister loyalists. Gendry's original plan was to stay out of it, but he had seen something in this one man's face. He had the exact same face as Arya Stark. So when that man was lying on the ground, beaten and bloodied, about to have a sword driven through his heart, Gendry stepped in and tackled the the Lannister soldier to the ground and snapped the arm that held the sword as if it were a twig. He then snapped the soldier's neck to put him out of his misery before throwing the beaten man's arm around his shoulder and helping him to safety. The man turned out to be the reigning king in the North, and had knighted him for saving his life. The two got along fairly well. When the king introduced himself as Jon Snow, Gendry remembered Arya talking about her bastard half brother.

"I knew your sister." Gendry had blurted out one day when Jon was visiting the forge to request that he repair Brienne's helm.

"You know Sansa?" Jon had been confused as he was sure that he would have seen them talking at some point if they knew each other. Gendry shook his head.

"I knew Arya." Jon's grey eyes grew wide and his words became so jumbled that Gendry barely made out the sentence. He then explained how he hadn't seen Arya in years, and how he was imprisoned by Stannis Baratheon and never learned where she went. The two became close, bonding over stories about Arya, about being bastards, about responsibilities suddenly being thrust in your lap when your whole life you've been nothing. Gendry and Jon considered each other brothers as the months passed by. Jon always invited Gendry to join him at big feasts where he would sit at his side, right by the king in the North. Jon would always offer him a high lady to wed, or to legitimize him, or grant him lordship, anything that might make Gendry more than a bastard knight. But he always refused.

When Gendry first got word of what had happened at the twins, something stirred inside him. He knew that no one had enough of a reason to hate Lord Frey other than a Stark to kill his sons, cook them into a pie, serve him the pie, and then slit his throat. If Arya truly was the cause of that gruesome act of justice, then it meant that she was still alive and she was finally checking the names off of her list. Gendry knew that she wouldn't be the same person that he had known five years prior, yet he still clung to a sliver of hope that she wouldn't have changed too much. He went to bed in the forge that night with a newfound hope in his heart that maybe, just maybe, Arya Stark was alive.

The next morning, Gendry heard about the false queen, Cersei Lannister.

Dead.

A month prior to when the raven arrived, she had been found on the iron throne, sitting upright by the help of strings that held her up like a puppet. Before her, there were two slaughtered kingsguard; Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Ilyn Payne. There was a single hole right through her neck, a stab wound, and it the only injury that was visible when she was found. Apparently, almost all of the blood in her body had been drawn from the wound. In her lap was a letter written with Cersei's own blood in the place of ink. The letter read:

_She stole my name. She stole my family. She stole my life._

_She owed me a great deal._

_And a Lannister always pays their debts._

After being examined by a maester, they found one more note carved into her back.

_the North remembers_

~

Jon was sitting at the small desk in his solar with Sansa, Brienne, and Gendry when he read out the raven scroll to them.

"It's Arya. She's checking the names off of her list." Sansa looked at Gendry and narrowed her blue eyes.

"What list?" Sansa was said to be one of the most beautiful ladies in all of Westeros. Most of the minstrels who sang of her beauty hadn't seen her in recent months. She had a harsh sort of beauty. Her orange hair was always worn in Northern style braids, she rarely smiled, and she had a stern authoritativeness about her. Jon had told Gendry that she had been a happy and trusting young lady once. But that was before. She was now cold, harsh, and cynical, and she clung loyally to her brother and Brienne. They were the only people that she dared to trust.

Everyone at Winterfell knew that Sansa had been raped by Ramsay Bolton, among other atrocities. If you didn't hear it from the gossip of the castle staff, you could see it in the swell of her belly. She was seven moons into her pregnancy with Ramsay Bolton's child. No one knew exactly how she felt about the unborn child, or whether or not she loved or hated it. She never said anything about the babe that she carried to anyone, save for reports to the maester and midwives.

"Arya had this list of names. She whispered these names every night before she went to bed when I was with her, almost like a promise." Brienne leaned in and folded her hands on the table.

"But what was the purpose of the list?What was she promising?" Gendry took in a deep breath. He hadn't even told Jon about Arya's list, as he didn't want to damage the image of the little sister that he once knew any further than it already had been. But he wasn't going to lie.

"It was a list of people that she wanted to kill." There was a silence in the room before Jon spoke up.

"Who was on it?" Gendry knew that list by heart, despite not having heard it spoken in so long. 

"The list went: Joffrey. Cersei. Walder Frey. Meryn Trant. Ilyn Payne. The Mountain. The Hound. She never slept until she finished reciting the names. She's checked off all the names on her list now." Jon shook his head.

"But how? She's just a girl, how could she kill them?" Sansa shook her head.

"If she's still alive, she'll be a woman grown. Her seventeenth nameday came and passed a fortnight ago. And if she is still alive..." They all looked at each other before Sansa stood with slight difficulty. "It means that she learned to survive." As Sansa left the solar, Brienne following close behind, Jon buried his face in his hands and sighed.

"I just want to know, Gendry. I want the answers. Where the fuck has she been? Is she even alive? What in the seven hells does _this_ mean?!" Jon gestured to the raven scroll and for the first time ever, Gendry saw his best friend cry.

Gendry wasn't a very emotional person. He would normally feel awkward or uncomfortable in situations where someone else was quietly sobbing in front of him. But he knew that he just had to be there and be quiet.

The hurt that Gendry had felt for the five years he had been without Arya had become his identity. He began to live and breathe for the dead Arya Stark, who was only dead because of him. She was probably slaughtered at the red wedding. There were rumors that she was spotted with the Hound, Sandor Clegane at the twins on that night. He lived to find any last bit of her, and he woke up in the morning for the possibility of finding something new. Befriending Jon Snow was the best fuel for his obsession with Arya. Keeping her the tiniest bit of alive in his mind was what got him through his days of labor in the forge, and was what put him to bed at night. And now that there was solid evidence that she might _actually_ be alive out there somewhere, he was more excited than ever before.

That night, Gendry was fast asleep in his chambers behind the forge when he awoke to Jon shaking him wildly.

"Jon...? What in the seven hells-" Jon grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of his bed.

"You have to come quick." Gendry shook his head to wake himself as he put on his boots and furs and leathers as fast as possible while still half asleep. They walked towards the exit of the forge.

"Where? Why? What's going on?" Jon stopped in the doorway and turned to face Gendry.

"It's Arya. She's back."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Ayra learns about Sansa's past, and Sansa and co. learn about Arya's past.

Gendry started to run with Jon to the yard that held the gates of Winterfell. His heart was pounding in his chest, his mind now more awake than ever and spinning with questions.

"Are you sure it's her?" Gendry asked, his feet thumping against the cold ground.

"I'm absolutely positive!" Jon replied as they neared the training yard with the gates.

"How do you know?" Jon smiled as they reached the training yard and stopped next to Sansa who was waiting with Brienne.

"She has the sword that I gave her before I left for the wall, Needle. I had it specially forged for her. She's right behind those walls." The men on the walls looked to Jon who gave them a nod. 

"OPEN THE GATES!" One of them yelled, and the large and heavy gates of Winterfell opened.

Arya was sitting atop a large and sturdy grey destrier which she walked slowly into the training yard. She looked better than Gendry had dreamed she looked. Her thick and smooth dark hair was down, hanging loose around her shoulders. Her skin was clean and fair, her eyes the same steely grey as they always were. She was dressed in black fur trimmed cloak, a black jerkin, and black breeches. Her chest had filled out to a point where her breasts were not large, but they were definitely noticeable. Any trace of her former babyish roundness had left her face. She dismounted the destrier easily and a sleepy stableboy standing by took the horse by the reigns and began to lead it towards the stables. Arya was taller than when Gendry had last seen her, but she was still short. Her eyes were planted on her brother, and her face broke into an ecstatic grin as she ran towards him.

"Arya," Jon breathed her name with such joy as he spun her around before setting her down. Sansa then pulled her as close as she could with her belly, and for the first time in the five months that Gendry had been at Winterfell, he saw Sansa Stark grinning.

"We thought you were dead. Welcome home, Arya." Arya stepped back from her sister's embrace and placed a hand on her round belly.

"Sansa? Are you married?" Sansa gave a sad smile to her sister.

"I'll explain it to you later." Brienne knelt before the youngest Stark lady.

"Lady Arya. Welcome home." Arya's brows furrowed in confusion as she recognized Brienne's face.

"You're the lady who defeated the Hound, aren't you?" Brienne stood and nodded.

"Aye. My name is Brienne of Tarth. I swore a sacred vow to your mother before she died that I would bring both you and your sister home. Thank you for returning, lady Arya. My duty to your mother has been fulfilled. I have sworn my life and my sword to your sister, Sansa, as well as to your brother, as lady commander of his kingsguard." Arya nodded and uttered a few words of extreme gratitude before she finally turned to Gendry. There was an unreadable expression on her face as she looked him up and down.

"Welcome home, m'lady." In the time that it takes to blink, Arya had jumped into Gendry's arms, wrapping her own lithe arms around his neck, the force nearly knocking him over.

"I always told you not to call me m'lady, you stupid bullheaded blacksmith." He held her tightly and a few joyful tears fell down his face. After all those years, he was finally holding her in his arms. She was alive, well, and most of all, she was _here._

"As m'lady commands." She laughed as he set her back down on the ground.

The next hour was a blur for Gendry. It was the middle of the night, and they got Arya's few belongings from her horse pack. Sansa showed her to her chambers, in case she had forgotten the way. Brienne went back to her own chambers to sleep, and Jon walked Gendry back to the forge.

"She really is back." Gendry could barely believe those words as he said them. _She's back. Arya is back._ The two friends cheeks' hurt from smiling for so long, but it didn't matter.

"Aye. She really is. And she appears to be relatively unharmed. I'm going to say a prayer of thanks in the morning in the godswood, so I will most likely be late for morning breakfast." Gendry nodded. _She's back, she's back, she's back._ When they reached the forge, The king bid his friend goodnight and left back for his own chambers in the castle. Gendry removed his furs and leathers until he was only in his small-clothes and almost instantly fell into a blissful, dreamless sleep on his featherbed.

~

Arya was beyond excited to be back home. Her brother was king, her sister was safe, and Gendry being at Winterfell made for the best surprise she could ask for. _Ask for... Ask! Ask Sansa about her... predicament._ Arya thought as she and her sister quietly walked thought the ancient halls of their ancestral home.

"Sansa, I must address this. You're carrying a child." Sansa laughed as she nodded.

"Yes, I am, I can't believe you noticed." Arya thought about what to say.

"Are you married?" Sansa's smile died quickly and her walking pace slowed.

"While you were away, I was treated like an object, being passed around from lord to lord to make 'powerful alliances' with their houses. I was beaten and publicly humiliated by Joffrey in King's Landing before they had me marry Lord Tyrion Lannister. He was kind, and did not make any advances. We never consummated our marriage. When Joffrey was poisoned, I was stolen away by Lord Baelish. He protected me by dying my hair black and hiding me in the Eyrie... Then we left." Sansa grew quiet as they climbed a spiral staircase up to the next floor.

"Go on." Sansa inhaled sharply.

"Littlefinger made a mistake by taking me away from the Eyrie." Arya furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Where did he take you?" Sansa lifted her chin and stopped walking.

"Here." There was a short pause before Sansa continued. "Winterfell was occupied by the Boltons before we took it back. I was married to Roose Bolton's firstborn son and heir, Ramsay. He seemed kind at first. But once we were married... I saw the monster that he truly was." There was a pause, and Arya could see the distant pain in her sister's sky blue eyes. "He killed Rickon. He broke Theon." She had grown quiet, and Arya felt tears prickling her eyes. Sweet, little Rickon. Dead. She had known it was probable that her youngest brother was already deceased, but she had clung to the hope that perhaps he was not. Sansa continued with a breaking voice. "And to me... he beat me, raped me, abused me in all sorts of ways as long as I could still give him an heir." Sansa gestured towards her large belly. "And now he has one." Arya was shocked that her once delicate, proper, and ladylike older sister was defiled in such ways. She was raped, beaten, tortured. And now she was carrying the child of the man who did all of it to her.

"Where is he now?" She asked, unable to think of anything else to say.

"After Jon seized Winterfell, we had Ramsay as a prisoner. He was famous for feeding his hounds human flesh, and on the day that he lost that battle, he had not fed his hounds in seven days." The sadness in her was replaced by something else, a wicked glint flashing in her blue eyes. "So I had him tied to a chair and placed in the kennel, and I watched as his dogs ate him alive." Arya looked at her sister in awe and shock. Sansa, the girl who cared more about being proper and honorable more than she did about her own siblings, had fed her husband to his own hounds. Arya realized with a shock of almost-horror that Sansa had grown into a broken woman who sought vengeance for her lost innocence. The almost-horror quickly grew into almost-relief. _She and I are not so different anymore._ She thought as Sansa stopped in front of the door to her chambers.

"Here you are. I look forward to hearing stories about your travels in the morning." The pregnant lady turned and almost left before she walked over to her younger sister and took her into one last hug for the night. "Welcome home, Arya. You don't know how much I've missed you." Arya squeezed her sister tightly before going into her childhood chambers, disrobing down to her small clothes, and falling asleep on a featherbed for the first time in years. And it was the best sleep of her entire life.

 

When Arya woke, the sun had risen and was shining in a the sky, casting saturated pink and orange rays of light over the clouds. The scent of her childhood chambers hit her hard as she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply through her nose. It was a soft scent, of oak, stone, and dirt. It made her believe for just a second that she was eleven years old again, and it was too early for anyone other than Jon to be awake. It made her believe that she and her half brother would be sneaking down to the stables any minute to race horses around the grounds of Winterfell. That father and mother would chuckle softly when Septa Mordane complained to them about Arya's willfulness, that Sansa would turn up her nose, Robb would muss up her hair, Bran would be climbing the walls of the broken tower, and Rickon would be playing with Shaggydog.

Then she remembered.

_Father is dead. Mother is dead. Robb is dead. Rickon is dead. Septa Mordane is dead. Bran is missing._

She reminded herself of these things to remember why she kept going. Because she needed to take what the people who killed her family left behind. She wanted to be at peace, but she could not rest until she checked off every name on her list. And now she had.

Arya stretched before she got out of her bed and tiptoed across the cold stone floor to her wardrobe. She found that her wardrobe was filled with dresses that she owned as an eleven year old girl, that obviously would not fit her now as a seventeen year old woman. She groaned and thought about what she might wear. She was not about to get back into the sweat and bloodstained tunic, jerkin, cloak, and breeches that she wore on her journey. She searched around the chambers desperately for something and after ten minutes, she checked underneath her bed. There she found a wooden trunk that had an _L_ carved into the unlocked hatch. Arya dragged the chest out from underneath the bed and coughed as the dust billowed up and into her face. She opened the trunk and said a silent prayer of thanks to the old gods that there were an abundance of dresses and gowns in it. In Braavos, Arya had grown used to wearing robes and skirts and dresses when wearing other faces. She had actually grown to enjoy certain styles of dresses, as long as she could move around swiftly and the garment didn't draw attention.

She picked out a silver velvet gown with tight sleeves and a low and scooped neckline, lined with white fur. It fit her like a glove. She then put on some house boots and walked down the stairs before finding her way to the great hall where Gendry was eating breakfast with Brienne and Sansa.

Gendry turned to grin at her and nodded his head, Brienne gave a polite smile, and Sansa beamed at her and beckoned for her to eat.

"Good morning, Arya. Where did you find that dress? It looks lovely." As Arya took a spot next to Gendry, across from Sansa and Brienne, she thanked the serving girl who instantly brought her bacon and roasted squirrel.

"It was in a trunk underneath my bed. I don't know who's it was, but it fits me well." She picked up her fork and dug into her food. The serving girl came back and gave her a cup filled with fresh water. Arya thanked her and drank silently.

"Tell us Arya. Where have you been all this time? What were you doing?" Arya put down the tin cup and wiped her mouth dry with the back of her hand.

"After I was kidnapped by the Hound, he took me to the twins expecting a reward for returning me to Robb and mother. We arrived just after the red wedding. Then, the Hound took my to the Eyrie in hopes of receiving a ransom from Aunt Lysa, but she had died. He was carting me around the Vale when you, Brienne, and your squire happened upon us and you defeated him in combat. After I fled the scene, I boarded a ship to Braavos. It was there that I found with an old friend who I had thought to be a man named Jaqen H'ghar. But the man had no name... He was no one. I trained with him and a woman known as the waif to become like them, to let go of my name and my face. There was too much pain that came with being the someone that I was and that I am. I wanted become no one." There was a heavy silence in the air as Gendry, Brienne, and Sansa waited for her to continue. "I trained to become a faceless man." Everyone stopped eating and stared at her. Now they knew that she was a trained assassin. Now they knew that she was a killer. Gendry broke the silence.

"You did what you had to do in order to survive. You avenged your family. You're home, you're alive, and you're alright. That's all that matters." Arya looked into Gendry's electric blue eyes and she smiled.

"Thank you." She spoke the words quietly. When Arya looked at her sister, she was almost surprised. Sansa had a straight face, looking down at her food.

"How many people did you kill?" Arya shrugged, trying to make it casual, but she could sense that everyone saw the tenseness in her shoulders.

"I can't say... I lost count a long time ago. But I never killed anyone if they didn't deserve to die." Sansa looked up, an almost angry expression painted across her face.

"Define what it means to be deserving of death." Arya stared at her older sister with a straight face.

"It means that they were going to kill me if I didn't beat them, or they had taken my family. Not just my family by the name of Stark, but the family that I tried to build along the way. I killed Cersei because she had taken you. I killed Ilyn Payne because he had taken father. I killed the Freys because they had taken mother, Robb, Robb's wife, and the niece or nephew that we never had. I killed because it was right. I killed because it was just." Sansa looked at her sister with the almost-horror that Arya had felt the night before. Right before the tension could explode the room, Jon entered.

"Good morning everyone. What are we talking about today?" The king walked over to the table where they sat and sat down next to Arya.

"We were talking about what lady Arya did when she was away." Jon looked at Arya intently, his grey eyes trying to stare into her well guarded thoughts.

"I went to Braavos and trained to become a faceless man." She said the words quickly, as if she wanted it done with. Jon's face wore an expressionless emotion as he nodded his head slowly.

"So it was you. You avenged our family at the twins, you who avenged the deaths of thousands from the wildfire at the great sept of Baelor." Arya turned to her brother and almost smiled while she nodded.

"Aye. And from what I've heard, you became a king while I was gone." Jon smiled and nodded.

"Aye. I was named king in the north about half a year ago. We've been fighting the war against Cersei Lannister for so long, I had almost forgotten about the other queen." It was then that everyone noticed the raven scroll in Jon's right hand.

"Daenerys Stormborn would like to meet with me," Gendry furrowed his brows as he looked at his best friend.

"Why? You made it clear the you only want to rule in a sovereign North, you don't want the iron throne. What is it that she wants to discuss?" Jon pursed his lips before standing up.

"It says that she wants to discuss a marriage proposal."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Sansa begs her brother not to leave, Arya trains Gendry, and Winterfell has an unexpected guest.

Gendry remembered the day that Jon had asked Sansa to be his hand. It had formerly been an issue that Jon couldn't think about, for he was too busy fighting the war against the white walkers and Cersei Lannister. The three of them were in the godswood, Sansa telling Jon that he needed to pick out people for his small council, and Gendry was there only for his daily prayers for Arya's safe return. Jon had named a few people, such as Petyr Baelish for master of whisperers, Wyman Manderly for master of laws, Davos Seaworth for master of ships, Brienne of Tarth as Lady Commander of the Kingsguard, and his friend from the wall, new arch maester Samwell Tarly as his personal Grand Maester. Sansa had agreed to all of them as excellent picks. When she had asked who would be his hand, he told her "You, of course."

Now, as his hand, Sanda advised Jon not to leave for Dorne, where Daenerys Stormborn and her armies were currently located. It was now night time, and Jon had spent all day preparing for the journey. Sansa, Arya, Gendry, Brienne, Podrick, Jaime, Bronn, and Davos were all in Jon's chambers, the lord's chambers, as he was packing bags for the journey.

"Jon, you're the King in the North. You belong in the North, not down south in Sunspear." Jon shook his head as he paced about his chambers, picking up clothes, books, and other belongings to place them in travel bags.

"Kings don't stay in their homelands for their entire reign. I have to make peace with the dragon queen, I'll only be gone four months." Sansa threw her hands up in the air.

" _Only_ four months? Jon, you're a _Stark!_ You belong here, not just in the North, but in Winterfell! We need you, _I_ need you! The baby will be here in two moon turns, I can't deliver without you!" Jon stopped and looked at his half sister. She never talked about the babe in her womb. She was speaking quickly and desperately, tears starting to pool in her blue eyes. She continued. "Jon. Up until last night, you were the only family that I knew for as long as I've been pregnant. I need you by my side when I deliver, I can't do it alone." Jon walked over to his sister and gently took her by the shoulders.

"Sansa. Your house is Stark. You heard what father said all our lives: There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. And I am not a Stark." Tears were now streaming down Sansa's face, staining her cheeks. The room was quiet and still apart from Jon and Sansa, as they all watched the lady of Winterfell and the king in the North.

"You _are_ a Stark! You're my brother! Don't leave me Jon, _please!_ " Jon embraced his orange haired sister as she sobbed into his shoulder.

"I _will_ come back, Sansa, I'm not leaving forever. I promise." Sansa only cried louder.

"Father said the same thing to mother when he left! Jon don't go!" He stroked her back and whispered shushing noises.

"I have to deal with the Targaryen queen, and then I'll come home." He said the words softly, as if he were speaking to a child.

"Take me with you! Arya can stay as the Stark in Winterfell, a king should not be without his hand." Jon shook his head.

"The king's hand rules in his absence. You will stay here with Arya. Besides, it's not safe for you to travel with the date of your delivery so soon." Sansa wailed some more, begged him to stay, and tried every guilt trip and plea that she could think of. But Jon was stubborn and stood his ground firmly.

"Sansa. I am going to Sunspear for your safety. If I anger Daenerys Targaryen... She has half the world's armies under her command, along with three fully grown dragons. She need only say the word _dracarys_ and Winterfell ends up just like Harrenhal. I'm doing this for your protection. If I don't go, we'll all end up dead. I'll be back in four months, and you'll be here waiting for me. You're one of the strongest people that I've ever met, you will make it without me. Don't worry, Sansa. Don't worry." The orange haired hand of the king continued to sob into her half brother's shoulder as everyone stood around in uncomfortable silence. Then, Sansa pulled away from Jon, sniffling, as she wiped away her tears and straightened her back.

"Who will you take with you?" She asked with a shaking voice. Jon gave a slight shrug with a small sigh.

"I was thinking Ser Davos, Tormund, Lord Baelish, Podrick Payne, Maester Samwell, Lady Lyanna Mormont, Ser Jaime Lannister, Ser Bronn, and about seventy five men of the royal guard." Brienne cocked her head along with her squire, Pod.

"Your grace, do you not think it wise to bring Lady Commander Brienne of Tarth in my place?" Jon turned to Podrick.

"I need Brienne and the rest of the kingsguard here. Her sword was sworn to Sansa before it was sworn to me. Her place is with my sisters. I'll be taking Ser Jaime of the kingsguard and Ser Bronn of the kingsguard along with seventy five royal guard for my protection. You're a decent fighter, Pod, but it's your political knowledge that I need. You squired for Lord Tyrion Lannister. He knows you and trusts you, and he has been named as the hand of queen Daenerys. Ser Davos, you know how to make peace with kings and queens. You made peace with Stannis Baratheon with mere crates of onions. You got us the help of house Mormont in the battle of the bastards. I'll need Lady Mormont because her cousin, Ser Jorah Mormont, is one of the queen's closest advisors and friends. I'll need Lord Baelish for his experience in the ways of negotiating, with the added benefit of his face being familiar to Lord Varys. I'll need Tormund to show that we are accepting and open to trying things that have never been done before, such as allowing free folk beyond the wall. And I'll need arch Maester Samwell for his companionship and wise council. Arya, you will need to stay here to be with Sansa. She cannot be alone in her time of need. And should anything happen during her delivery... There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. And Gendry. You have grown to be a brother to me. I know you were not raised to run castles or kingdoms, only to run a forge. Which is why I trust you to continue in your studies and continue your training with a sword. There will come a day where I'll need you to wield a sword and shield instead of a blacksmith's hammer." There were silent nods around the room as the king gave his orders. Jon then sighed and dismissed everyone back to their chambers for the night, holding back only Gendry. After everyone had left, he sighed and buried his face in his hands.

"Do tell me how is it possible to feel so torn about leaving for a simple trip for political stability?" Gendry shrugged and sat next to his friend.

"I can't say because I don't know. What's _truly_ troubling you about this journey?" Jon looked into Gendry's eyes with tears starting to pool in his own.

"I never told you about her, did I?" Gendry cocked his head to the side.

"About who?" Jon looked to the fireplace where above the mantle, there hung a bow and quiver full of arrows. He took a shaky breath.

"When I was on the wall, I was out on a rangers mission with a few other watchmen when we caught some wildlings. There was this one that I had in my arms, ready to kill. But when she turned around and I saw her face... I couldn't do it. She had this bright red hair and wild blue eyes. She escaped, and then I caught her, took her as prisoner for a while. But truly, it was her who had captured me. I started to fall in love with the wildling girl. See, my whole life I had never laid with a girl. I couldn't help but think, _What if I get her pregnant? What if she gives birth to a bastard?_ That's not the life that I would want for a child of mine. But she was different. She was wild and free and had nothing to lose. She lead me into a cave and we made love. That's when I knew that I loved her. So I told her. She had her own way of saying it back. _'You know nothing, Jon Snow.'_ " The king almost smiled as he stared at the bow and arrows. "Sometimes I swear I can still hear her saying it. It was what she said to mock me. It was what she said when she meant to say that she loved me. And it was what she said as she lay dying in my arms." Gendry grew quiet. He had felt the pain of losing the woman he loved the most, but he had gotten Arya back. Jon would never again see his wildling woman.

"What was her name?" Jon stood and walked over to the mantlepiece where he gently took the bow off of the wall. In the bow, there was a name carved. His fingers ran over the name etched into the wood and a tear rolled down his cheek and onto the bow, filling the hollows of the carved letters with his tears.

"Ygritte." He turned back to Gendry. "This was her bow. She was the best marksman I've ever seen in my life, I once saw her get a rabbit on the ground through the eye from a tree." Jon almost smiled at the memory before setting the bow back up on it's mount. "My apologies, I got distracted. The point is, I loved Ygritte with all my heart. I still love her. And even though she's been dead for almost a year, I still feel as if I'm betraying her. The dragon queen's proposal was one of marriage, and here I am packing my bags to travel two months there and back and accept that proposal. I'm leaving my pregnant sister to deliver her rapist's child alone! I only just got Arya back, and now I'm leaving her. Seven hells, Gendry, how can I do this?" Gendry barely knew what to say to comfort his best friend and king. Despite not knowing what to say, he started talking.

"Jon Snow. You are the most honorable and noble man I have ever met. You're going south to protect your family and your people. Sansa may be angry and hurt now, but she'll be alive. Arya went six years without you, she can go another four months. Sansa knows Winterfell and it's people like the back of her hand, she'll rule well in your place. And Daenerys only wants an alliance. You're the king in the North, she might drop the proposal of marriage and simply agree on an alliance. You're doing the right thing by leaving, Jon." The Northern king looked at his best friend and gave him a grateful smile.

"I can only hope."

~

The next morning, Jon and his party left on horseback for Sunspear in Dorne. Sansa, Arya, and Gendry had all stood in a line and watched them leave. Sansa had returned herself to a calm and cold disposition, her hands folded, resting in front of her round belly. But Gendry saw the single tear that fell down her cheek before she turned away and strode back into the castle. Winterfell was quiet for days after the departure of their king, and Sansa grew cold once more.

Arya approached him in the yard three days later. It was morning, the sun barely risen, the castle barely awake. She was wearing a dark grey long sleeved wool tunic underneath a light grey sleeveless velvet dress that was lined with white fur and a silver cloak made of velvet and white furs. Her hair was left down with the exception of two braids on either side of her forehead that were joined together in a single braid in the back.

"Good morning, Gendry." She said with a small grin. He smiled back at her.

"Good morning m'la- Arya. What brings you here so early?" She held her hands behind her back.

"I've been meaning to ask you something. How is it that you came to my ancestral home and befriended my brother?" Gendry exhaled loudly. He considered telling her the truth. _I wanted to be as connected to you as humanly possible because I believed you to be dead but finding out more about you made you feel alive in my mind._ But he couldn't.

"I needed to get away from King's Landing after Ser Davos helped me escape from dragonstone. Queen Cersei was paranoid about potential Baratheon bastards that might have come from other lands to take the throne from her. So I went North. I happened upon a skirmish between Lannister loyalists and your brother's men. I would have left the scene and gone on my way but... I saw something." Arya motioned for him to continue.

"What did you see?" Gendry look into her steely grey eyes and stopped himself from speaking the truth. _I saw you in your brother's face. It felt like I was saving you when I was saving him, and I hadn't felt more alive in my life._ How would she react to him knowing that he lived only for her? How would she feel knowing that his heart beat and his lungs breathed for months only for the mere image of her face burned into his memory?

"I saw a Stark man about to have a Lannister sword driven through his heart. I saw myself in that Stark, and I saw Cersei Lannister in her soldier. So I tackled that loyalist to the ground, snapped his neck, and carried the bloodied Stark man to safety. I brought him to Winterfell, where his wounds were healed in a matter of days. As it turns out, I had saved his grace the king, Jon Snow. He knighted me and invited me to stay on as smith in the forge here at Winterfell. One day, I told him that I had known you after you'd escaped king's landing. He spent the whole rest of that day with me in the forge, listening to me telling stories about the times that I had with you. We became as close as brothers within a matter of weeks. He included me in his small council, even though I held no position in those meetings. He relied on me for advice not because I was wise or experienced, but because I had known _you._ " Arya seemed slightly dumbfounded. She then shook that off and held her wrist behind her back.

"Follow me." She began walking towards the training yard, and Gendry followed, confused. She then removed the belt from her waist where her thin sword, Needle, hung, and placed it on the ground. Arya then grabbed two practice swords and tossed one to Gendry, which he promptly dropped. "Tomorrow, you will catch it." 

"What are you doing?" Arya stood side face and held up the weighted practice sword with ease.

"I'm training you, boy." Something about her demeanor changed. Her words were tinted with a sharp Braavosi accent, her movements more swift and graceful, and her smile more wise. "That sword is an extension of your arm. Can you drop your arm, boy?" He shook his head as he tried to mimic the stance that she had taken.

"No." He wondered why she was calling him boy. He had been a man grown for some time now, and he towered over her.

"Good. Don't hold the sword like that. When your arm is locked straight, you don't have freedom to move your arm. Relax your sword arm. Relax your wrist, too, you want to be able to move the sword, boy." When Gendry relaxed his wrist, the sword became too heavy and he almost dropped it, but he caught himself and stood back up in Arya's stance. She smiled. "You're making progress already." Gendry listened and watched as Arya corrected his every mistake as their wooden swords clashed together. By noon, he was covered in bruises from being beaten by her practice sword. Arya was quick, experienced, and well balanced with a sword. Gendry realized that to her, he was a big, slow, and muscly target. As she buckled Needle's belt around her waist, she grinned at him. She didn't have a single mark on her body. The slight Braavosi accent was still in her voice, along with the strange demeanor that had overtaken her during training.

"You're strong, Gendry. But strength is nothing when you fight with swords in the place of fists. _These,_ " She squeezed his large biceps. "Only make you a larger target. You have to learn to be quick if you're to be a swordsman." Gendry winced, as she had squeezed a forming bruise.

"And you can teach me?" She shrugged. Despite the fact that she had made a fool of him in training, he still felt shocks of joy just looking at her, alive, happy, and unharmed.

"You're a good blacksmith, Gendry. I've seen your work. My brother's crown was crafted by you, was it not?" Gendry nodded. It was one of his finer works with silver. "You beat metal with a rhythm, so I know you have rhythm in you. You'll need to learn to channel that rhythm into fighting. When I first learned to wield a sword, I was a block of clay, yet to be molded into a lady or a swordsman. My teachers had easier jobs, as I had wielded no weapon before Needle. But you've spent your life beating at an anvil with a hammer. Undoing the clay mold that you've been fit into would be difficult. I trained with speed and with stealth, but I am small and thin. You on the other hand are large and strong. Perhaps tomorrow a girl-" She shook her head before continuing. "Perhaps tomorrow _I_ will give you a hammer instead of a sword. Your father was said to be one of the finest warriors in Westeros in his day, and his weapon of choice was hammer." He wondered how she knew his father's identity. She looked at him with those grey, wise-beyond-their-years eyes and she seemed read his thoughts. "I lived in his castle for mode than half a year, you know. Your father, I mean. He was _my_ father's closest friend. My father was your father's hand for a time. You have his eyes and his hair. You would look just like a younger version of Robert Baratheon, if he hadn't been so fat. I've been told he wasn't fat when he was young." There was a short silence before Arya spoke again. "Tomorrow, you will not catch the sword. Tomorrow, we'll have you working on fighting with a hammer. We'll play to your strength, which just so happens to be strength." Arya began walking away from Gendry and towards the doors that went into the castle before stopping and turning around. "Are you not coming?"

"Where would I be going?" Gendry yelled, the distance between them greater than he'd realized.

"Don't be stupid, we're eating midday supper. It's noon, Sansa will be expecting us." Gendry followed the youngest Stark into the castle and through the stony halls until they reached the great hall, where Sansa was eating with Brienne and her midwife, a Manderly girl of 23 years named Lira, when Arya and Gendry sat down at the table.

"Gendry, what happened, why are you covered in bruises?" Sansa asked, only the slightest trace of concern in her voice.

"I was training in the yard with Arya, m'lady and she's much better than me." Sansa nodded, as if in approval, before putting another spoonful of oatmeal in her mouth. Suddenly, Sansa winced and cursed under her breath.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Arya asked, the concern flooding her voice. Sansa shook her head and made an _it's nothing_ gesture.

"Nothing's wrong. It kicks me sometimes." She motioned to her round belly and Arya nodded, leaning back in her seat as the serving girl brought her and Gendry oatmeal. The conversation dried as they continued to eat, as the only speaking was Lira asking Sansa questions about lower back pain and breathing.

One of the household guardsmen entered the room, looking flushed and hurried. He straightened up as he walked towards the table where they all ate before kneeling.

"My lady hand," The man addressed Sansa formally, meaning that it was important business. She nodded as he stood.

"Ser Adlin. What news do you bring?" Ser Adlin Cerwyn looked around nervously.

"There is a party waiting at the gates, my lady hand. They bear unfamiliar banners." The Cerwyn knight looked down at the parchment in his hand before looking back up at the orange haired Stark, who was staring at him with a frightening anger masked by calmness. "Their leader requests and audience with you, my lady hand. He says that you have important business to discuss with him. They say that they will not attack if you grant audience to their leader, but if you refuse..." Sansa stood with the help of Lira.

"Allow the man who leads them to enter, and _only_ him." Ser Adlin nodded and promptly left. Sansa rubbed her temples as she left for the yard. She gathered what was left of the kingsguard and the small council along with Arya and Gendry to stand outside in proper formation. When the gates opened, a single tall man with olive skin, black eyes, and curly black hair stepped into the yard. Sansa lifted her chin.

"State your business." The man nodded.

"Excuse the informality of my arrival, my lady hand. The business that I have is urgent." The man had a heavy accent that Gendry couldn't place. Perhaps it was an accent of Lys or Pentos. Sansa narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"Who are you?" The tall man looked her straight in the eye.

"I am Lord Ambrose of house Maegyr, brother of the last reigning queen in the North, Talisa Stark of house Maegyr. I have come for my sister's bones."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! First off, I just want to give a huge thank you to everyone who has left kudos or a comment, reading those comments make my day! And second, let's address the fact that I've added a character of my own creation, Talisa's brother. I have big plans for Ambrose Maegyr and I'm super excited for what's in store for everyone! Thank you for reading and thank you especially if you left kudos or a nice comment:)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Ambrose discusses what business he has at Winterfell and Arya mourns her brothers.

Arya remembered what Talisa's body had looked like as the Freys and Boltons and Lannisters had paraded it through the streets after Robb's. At least they didn't defile _her_ corpse by sewing a direwolf's head onto her neck. Arya thought that while Talisa was alive, she would have been very lovely. But a lifeless corpse with several stab wounds still bleeding from the gut was not lovely. 

Talisa's brother looked very similar to how she must have looked while alive. They had the same looks, save for his wider set jaw and more masculine, muscled frame while she had been slim and feminine. He was quite tall, taller than Sansa and around the same height as Gendry. He looked like he was maybe a year or two older than Sansa at her nineteen years. He was dressed in Northern furs and leathers, but they bore foreign colors. He wore tans and creams with a foreign sigil of two tigers ironed into his jerkin that Arya didn't recognize, but assumed was that of house Maegyr. Sansa turned to Arya, asking her with only her eyes. Arya gave a minuscule shake of the head before turning back to face their dead goodsister's brother.

"Lord Ambrose, I should introduce myself. I am Arya Stark of Winterfell, the younger of the two ladies Stark. Despite the fact that the event of the red wedding happened years ago, I would like to extend my sincerest of apologies for the loss of your sister, Queen Talisa. We lost our mother, Catelyn, and brother, Robb that night, and we have lost two more brothers since." Arya spoke without a break in her voice, despite her the ache in her heart that longed for Bran, Rickon, and Robb back. Ambrose pointed a finger at her.

"You're the one who cooked the Frey pies, aren't you?" Arya was surprised, but the shock didn't last more than a second before she nodded her head.

"Aye, I cooked two Freys who killed my family into pies and served it to their lord father before killing him." Ambrose smiled at her response.

"In Volantis, there are great tales of the lone wolf, Arya Stark, who single handedly avenged the red wedding. You avenged the death of my sister and her unborn child by killing the Freys. Thank you." He bowed to Arya and approached the lineup of Sansa, Arya, Gendry, and Brienne until he was a mere foot away from the lady hand. Sansa inhaled sharply.

"Now, if I can collect my sister's bones and my men and I are granted some hospitality, we'll be on our way in a matter of days." Sansa looked at her sister and inhaled deeply, preparing herself to tell Ambrose the bad news.

"Lord Ambrose, I'm afraid there is no easy way to say this... We don't have Talisa's remains. If we did know her final resting place, we would have sent her bones to your home in Volantis a long time ago. Truth be told, we do not know where our brother's remains lie either, nor our lady mother's. We only hear rumors that our mother was dumped into a river, and only the gods know where they put our brother's defiled corpse." Ambrose's face fell.

"You mean no one tried to recover the bones of your last queen?" His voice was seeping with hurt and newfound anger. Sansa was quick to respond.

"No one _could_ try, my lord. There were very few men that remained loyal to house Stark after the red wedding, and none that were loyal enough to risk their lives by going into Lannister territory to collect the remains of their king and queen. I'm sorry that we cannot give you back your sister's bones, but we will grant you and your men hospitality for as long as you need it." Ambrose nodded understandingly, yet still visibly hurt. It was at that moment that Sansa readjusted her slipping cloak, and her round belly was revealed through the gap in the fabric. Ambrose eyed the bump before she finished adjusting the garment and it was hidden once more.

"My men and I are grateful to you for granting us this hospitality. Thank you, my lady hand." Sansa nodded and then looked to the men on the walls.

"Open the gates!" She shouted to them. The highest ranking officer on those walls nodded back to her.

"OPEN THE GATES!" At least three hundred Volantene soldiers began to pour in through the gates of Winterfell on horseback, and Sansa's blue eyes widened, probably because she was trying to think of where to put them all along with their horses, where to get food to feed them, and so on and so forth.

"Do not worry, my lady. The bulk of my men will be departing for the White Harbor to go back to Volantis on the morrow. For tonight, we just need a place to rest and some supper." Ambrose's words to Sansa sounded like honey in the form of a voice, smooth and sweet. She nodded before furrowing her brow and looking back to the Volantene lord.

"Will you not be leaving with them, my lord?" Lord Ambrose shook his head.

"I originally came to this place be granted audience with his grace, the king. When I heard that he was riding south to Dorne on business, I resolved to wait for his grace's return. Of course, I will only stay if you will grant me that hospitality, my lady hand." Sansa pursed her lips. Arya had only been back for a matter of days, but it was already clear to her that the proper, happy, and trusting sister she had once known was gone. She had been replaced by a cold, calculating, and distrusting woman who had suffered unspeakable horrors in her own ancestral home. Arya didn't know if her sister had enough trust in her to allow the foreign lord to stay until Jon's return.

"King Jon will be absent for four months. I am his hand, and I rule in his absence. I am his most trusted advisor. Any matters you might discuss with my brother, you may also discuss with me." Ambrose nodded as a solemn and respectful look came across his face.

"I know, my lady hand, and I do not at all doubt your ability to rule well in your brother's stead. It is only a matter of traditional preference that I speak with the king himself on this particular subject." Sansa cocked her head slightly to the side and furrowed her brow.

"And what subject is that? I was under the impression that you were only here to collect your sister's remains, however considering the number of fighting men that you brought with you on the long journey from Volantis to here in Winterfell, I doubt that returning Talisa's bones to your home is all that you came for. Am I correct?" Ambrose nodded.

"You are, my lady hand. There is another reason that I have come to Winterfell. Perhaps we should go inside where it would be a more suited place to discuss such private matters?" Sansa gave a single nod before turning to Ser Daemon Karstark, the head of the household guard.

"Ser Daemon, if you would, please see to it that these men are given food, water, and blankets for rest. We obviously do not have enough beds for each of them to have their own, but if they are willing to share, we should have enough room in the first keep." Daemon nodded and began to carry out Sansa's orders.

"Lord Ambrose, if you will follow me, I will call a meeting of the small council. Of course, a great portion of the small council has gone with my brother south to Dorne, but we still have myself, lady commander Brienne of Tarth, Lord Wyman Manderly, Ser Gendry Waters, and my sister, lady Arya Stark." Ambrose furrowed his brow and cocked his head to the side as he, Arya, Gendry, Wyman Manderly, and Brienne followed Sansa into the castle and up the winding stone staircases that led to her solar.

"I beg pardon, my lady hand, but I studied reports of his grace's small council before arrival, and there is no one by the name of Gendry Waters who holds a small council position." Gendry spoke up as they walked up a spiral set of stairs.

"I am Ser Gendry Waters, and I am his grace the king's closest non-familial friend and trusted advisor. I have no official seat on the small council, but I have gone to every meeting for the past five months, give or take a week." Sansa nodded in confirmation as Ambrose nodded slowly in thought.

"Does a bastard knight from king's landing with no high rankings belong in the small council meetings? The people of King's Landing are not known for honesty nor honor, especially not their baseborn bastards." Arya could see her friend getting angrier by the second, and could feel that same anger on Gendry's behalf beginning to creep up on her. All her life, Arya _hated_ when people openly thought lowly of bastards. Jon was her closest friend for most of her life, and Gendry was a high ranked friend on her short list of people that she trusted.

"His place on the small council is no less valid than our king's place on the Northern throne. A bastard surname doesn't make a difference. Gendry is the last surviving son of king Robert of the house Baratheon. Bastard or not, he has his royal blood running through his veins. Gendry protected me when I was too young and too small to protect myself from the evil people of King's Landing who wanted me dead because I bore the surname 'Stark'. Gendry saved Jon's life in a skirmish between Stark men and Lannister loyalists five months ago. If it weren't for him, Jon and I would both be dead, meaning that no one would have avenged the death of your sister. So next time, think more wisely about who you call a dishonorable liar." Ambrose's eyes went slightly wider than usual as he put up both of hands.

"Forgive me, lady Arya, I meant no offense. I now realize that I have reason to shame for speaking so lowly of Ser Gendry, I had no place to say such things. My words were unfair and incorrect. My sincerest of apologies to you, Ser Gendry. I was speaking from assumption and not from evaluation of you character. Forgive me." Gendry was still angry, perhaps about to explode and inflict harm upon the Volantene lord. But Arya touched his arm, and Gendry's whole demeanor changed. It was a gentle and subtle touch, and she had only lightly placed her palm on his forearm, but her touch seemed to cool his heated temperament. Arya smiled at Gendry as he shook his head at Ambrose.

"There's nothing to forgive, m'lord. You were questioning my place in the small council with genuine concern, and understandably so. Most people from King's Landing are liars, and the bulk of the population in the capital are bastards." Ambrose smiled back at Gendry as they approached Sansa's personal solar that was connected to her chambers. Sansa opened the oak door to her solar and everyone took a seat at the wooden table in the middle of the room.

"As you all know, this small council meeting was called to discus urgent business with Lord Ambrose Maegyr, brother of the deceased queen Talisa Stark of house Maegyr. So, lord Ambrose, do tell us, what urgent business do you have here in Winterfell?" Sansa had her hands folded on the table and spoke calmly. Arya had noticed that she actually seemed relaxed for once. Her shoulders held no tenseness, her fingers were not clutched together tightly, and her posture was slightly less than perfect. She had quickly learned that meeting with unfamiliar people caused Sansa to stress and worry. But right now, she was relaxed. For once, Sansa seemed genuinely as calm as she always forced her voice to sound.

"The urgent business that I have is more of a request. Shortly after Talisa was killed, my mother died in childbed, giving birth to my little sister, Calysta. She is four years old now. Volantis has become a dangerous place. There have been violent uprisings against highborns from freed slaves, which is understandable, but the freed slaves kill anyone who's face is not marked with a tattoo. My father was a good man who fought for their freedom his whole life. That didn't stop the freed slaves from killing him, leaving me to raise Calysta alone. Which brings me to the request. Volantis in these times of war and winter is no place for a little girl. My plea is simple. If you would allow the kindness, I ask that you foster my sister here in Winterfell, raise her to be a proper lady. In exchange for fostering her, I will send a ship filled with fresh Volantene food and wines every month until it is safe enough in Volantis for my sister to return. I've lost both my parents and my older sister in the past four and a half years. Please, my lady hand, help me protect the last of my family." Sansa leaned back in her chair and looked to Arya and their eyes locked. They both knew that they needed more food. Their support from the vale and the stormlands was enough for now, but if the white walkers managed to get south of the wall, famine and death would reign. Fostering a single child was a small price to pay for monthly supply of fresh Volantene food. Arya nodded her head and her sister looked back to Ambrose.

"We accept your terms. On one condition." Sansa was rubbing her knuckles, a nervous habit.

"What condition is that, my lady hand?" Ambrose's coal black eyes glistened with hope.

"That you stay here with your sister. I know what it's like to be taken away from your family and your home at a young age. I refuse to take in a child if she's being torn away from all that she knows with no explanation. You're her brother, and you're all that she has left. You need to be there for her. If Volantis is as dangerous a place as you say it is, going back might mean that your sister will have to deal with the same pain that you and I both felt when we heard news of our Robb and Talisa's demise at the red wedding. I'll not subject a young child to that same torture." Ambrose furrowed his brow as he nodded.

"You have my word. I will send my most trusted advisors back to castle Maegyr to rule in my stead. I am forever grateful for your kindness and hospitality, my lady hand. From the bottom of my heart, thank you." Sansa nodded at the Volantene lord, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

"You are welcome, Lord Ambrose. I hope that I have not made the wrong decision." Ambrose smiled as he stood.

"Believe me, my lady, you have not." Sansa waved her hand, dismissing the small council. Wyman Manderly coughed before leaving the room. Arya helped her sister stand before turning to leave.

"Arya?" The younger Stark lady turned around to face her sister.

"Show lord Ambrose to Robb's quarters. That is where he'll be staying from here on out." Arya nodded her head and left the room, followed by Gendry.

"Lord Ambrose!" Arya called after the Volantene lord. He turned around to face her and smiled.

"Lady Arya, a pleasure!" She wasted no time.

"I have been directed to show you to your chambers. Follow me." It had been six years since Arya had been to Robb's chambers, but she still knew the way by heart. She lead Ambrose through the winding stone hallways towards the room that had once been occupied by her eldest brother.

"What was Robb like? I never knew him, but he must have been a spectacular man to make my sister forget her duty and honor." Arya smiled at the memory of Robb's bright smile and auburn curls.

"He was spectacular. He was honorable, noble, and kind. He was so close to perfect. He was handsome and was always the best at nearly everything he did. Most of all, Robb was loyal to those he loved. He would have been a good king if he hadn't been so young. He was inexperienced the ways of war and loss. He did quite well for a king his age, and for a soldier of his level of experience." Arya stopped in front of the heavy oak door that lead to Robb's old chambers. She opened the door and found that the room had been relatively untouched since it was last inhabited by Robb Stark himself. But someone had been in here. There was no dust or cobwebs. The scent of the room filled Arya's nose and she felt nostalgic tears pooling in her eyes. "When we were children, each one of us would sneak into this room late at night. We would tell stories and spend time together, without parents or responsibilities. Those times, those late night giggles between the six of us, were when Sansa stopped being a lady, Jon stopped being a bastard, Robb stopped being the heir, and we were all just brothers and sisters. I remember the last time that we were all together sitting in these chambers after the rest of the castle had fallen asleep. We didn't know that it would be the last time. Sansa and Bran were sitting on the bed, playing a guessing game. Jon was reading Rickon a story about Visenya, Rhaenys, and Aegon Targaryen's dragons by the windowsill. And I was sitting on top of Robb's table while he sat on the stool, attempting to braid his hair. That was the last time I ever told Robb that I loved him. He had ruffled my hair and pulled me into a tight hug and told me that he loved me too. I miss him more and more every day. If I'm being honest, I miss him more than Bran or Rickon. I know that I shouldn't say that, but it's true. I want them _all_ back, with all my heart. Father and mother, too. But I can't get any of them back. Maybe, somewhere out there, Bran is still alive. But it's a cruel and harsh world we live in. Living in this world and being human is a sin far too heinous for the gods to ignore. That is why they make us suffer." Ambrose stared at Arya, listening intently. When she made it clear that she was finished speaking, she regained her composure. "I'll see you tomorrow, Lord Ambrose. I hope you and your sister enjoy being our guests here in Winterfell. Goodnight." Arya bid him goodnight, despite the fact that it was barely an hour past midday. She exited the room, ran all the way down to the silent crypts of winterfell, and began to cry at the foot of Rickon's tomb. For the first time after years of being faceless, emotionless, and hard in Braavos, Arya Stark allowed herself to cry for her lost brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not much, but I have a big chapter coming up!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Ambrose learns about the father of Sansa's baby, and Winterfell gains a Stark.

Gendry attended supper that night with Sansa, Arya, Ambrose, and Calysta. The Volantene men had eaten their meals and were all asleep in the first keep before they would leave at dawn the next day. There was goat meat from the vale and fresh fish in from the stormlands. An uncomfortable silence hung around the table as everyone ate, the only noise being the utensils on the plates. Not until Ambrose spoke up.

"My lady hand, how are you liking the wine?" Sansa gave a single chuckle before sipping the water out of her cup instead of the Volantene wine in her goblet.

"I can't have wine, lord Ambrose." He nodded his head and nodded towards her round belly.

"Ah, because of the baby, correct?" Sansa's face bore an unreadable expression as she nodded her head.

"Is there a baby here? Why can't I see it?" Calysta piped up. Gendry tightened his grip on his fork and held his breath, waiting for Sansa to crack. But she didn't.

"You can't see the baby because it's in my belly, lady Calysta." She said, with a calm yet strained voice. Arya made eye contact with Gendry, the two of them having a silent understanding. If Calysta kept asking questions about Sansa's baby, she might unleash all her anger on the four year old.

"Oh. The baby isn't here yet. I used to be in my mother's belly, but she died when I came out, so I didn't know her. I didn't know my sister either, but Ambrose said that your brother married her before they died." She spoke eloquently for a four year old. Gendry often wondered what Sansa was like as a child. It was often said that she was trusting and happy, but mostly, she had been determined to be a high lady or queen. He wondered how often she smiled back then. He then wondered if she had ever felt satisfied with her life.

"Yes, your sister did marry my brother." Sansa took a bite of the fish and another and another right after. She was tense.

"When will the baby come out of your belly?" Calysta asked, followed by another aggressive bite of the fish and a bite of the lamb.

"Two moon turns." Sansa nearly spat out the words at the tiny Volantene lady.

"Where is your baby's father?" Ambrose stood and picked his sister up out of her seat as Sansa slammed her fork and knife down on the table.

"Calysta, _gaomi daor ȳdragon hen zirȳla rūs's kepa! Se jēda ēza māzigon syt ēdrugon."_ Ambrose spoke the Valyrian words to his sister with a firm and stern voice. Calysta looked at her older brother with a pout.

" _Yn skoro syt, lēkia?_ " He shook his head at his sister before motioning to a serving girl.

"Please show my sister to bed." The girl nodded and he thanked her as she showed the tiny lady to her chambers, which had once belonged to Rickon.

"My deepest apologies for my sister's behavior, my lady hand. She's only a child, and has yet to understand what is polite and what is not." Sansa picked up her fork and knife and continued to eat, the tenseness slowly disappearing from her shoulders.

"I know that. All is forgiven." By the look on his face, Ambrose was clearly not convinced that anything was forgiven, but he sat back down silently anyways. He remained silent along with everyone else for about five minutes before speaking up again.

"I should not have instigated that conversation. I want you to know that I won't start any conversations like that one again." Sansa inhaled sharply through her nose.

"You're right, you shouldn't have started that conversation. I appreciate your word, and I want _you_ to know that if you speak to me about the babe's father again, you and your sister will be sent away." She spoke the words with a strained voice before taking another aggressive bite of the last of the lamb. She pushed her chair back and Arya rushed to the other side of the table to help her sister stand. Gendry noticed how Sansa always stood straight backed and tall, allowing everyone to see that she knew she was powerful and strong. He wondered how hard it was to stay as proud and tall as she was with the mark of Ramsay Bolton's intrusion on her body displayed for all to see in her round belly. Sansa walked away with Arya, the only goodbye being a curt nod to Gendry and Ambrose. He had noticed it was entirely dark now, and his body had started to slow and tire. It was as he was walking through the snow towards the forge that he heard Ambrose call his name.

"SER GENDRY! SER GENDRY!" Gendry turned around to find Ambrose running towards him, his olive skin and black curls standing out against the harsh white of the snow.

"Lord Ambrose." The Volantene lord caught up to the bastard knight, a slight pant on his breath.

"Ser Gendry, I apologize in advance for the question I am about to ask." Gendry nodded as the two began to walk towards the forge, a sign for Ambrose to continue. "I don't know much about lady Sansa's... _situation._ If you don't mind me asking, who is the father?" Gendry exhaled loudly as he opened the door to the forge and motioned for Ambrose to step in. They went to the back room that was Gendry's chambers. Jon had insisted that he get builders to make it bigger and more suited for the closest friend of the king. So it was a large back room for a forge, with a table and stools, a bookcase, a featherbed, and a loft where he kept his chest of prized possessions. They were all things that he'd collected through his journey around Westeros that reminded him of Arya. 

"Forgive the mess m'lord, I didn't expect to be entertaining company tonight. Sit." Ambrose pulled up a stool and sat down by the table as Gendry did the same. "You have boldly inquired about the one thing the lady hand of the king does not talk about: Her babe's father. However, I assume you will know eventually if you're to live in Winterfell." Ambrose nodded solemnly.

"I will not speak of this to the lady hand, I only want to know so that I might better avoid the subject around her." Gendry nodded, knowing completely that he meant well, but was clearly overcome with curiosity.

"Sansa Stark was living in the Eyrie with lord Petyr Baelish before he took her here, to Winterfell. At the time, this ancient castle was held by the Boltons. Roose Bolton was the one who had stabbed her brother, Robb Stark, finishing him off at the red wedding. After arriving at Winterfell, years after the event, Sansa was married to his son and heir, Ramsay Bolton. Now some say Roose Bolton was cruel, but none can compare to his son. He tortured and killed people for sport, and he beat and tortured Sansa in any way he could as long as she could still give him an heir. She managed to escape Winterfell with the man who was her father's ward, Theon Greyjoy, and was discovered and protected by Brienne of Tarth and her squire, Podrick Payne. They travelled to castle Black at the wall where Jon Snow sat as lord commander. It was there that they received word that their brother Rickon was being held. So they rallied a few Northsmen's armies, and a band of wildlings to fight the Boltons. There was a great battle known as the battle of the bastards shortly afterwards. The Starks may have won the battle, but they lost so many men. The youngest Stark, Rickon, was among those who had fallen. The Starks took Ramsay prisoner after the battle had been won. Sansa wanted to get back at Ramsay for what he did to her." Gendry grew quiet. Few people spoke of Sansa's Revenge, but everyone knew about it.

"What did she do?" Ambrose asked, his voice quieter and more curious than ever.

"She fed him to his own hounds. It's said that his screams could be heard throughout the castle, and that is how the world knew that he had paid the price for his crimes." Ambrose's coal black eyes had widened in shock. There was a silence for a while, but there was no discomfort. The silence was there for a good reason, and Ambrose broke it at the right time.

"So lady Sansa is carrying the child of her rapist." It was a statement, not a question, but Gendry nodded his head anyways.

"She is." Ambrose shook his head as he stood.

"How are the gods so cruel that they made it so my sister couldn't live to bear the child of the man that she loved, but Sansa is forced to carry the child of the monster that made her life hell?" Gendry had no words to offer the Volantene lord except for a shrug of the shoulders and a shake of the head. Ambrose nodded, as if in understanding that Gendry had an answer of _I don't know._ He then nodded curtly and left the forge, back to his chambers that had once belonged to the man who was the reason his sister was dead.

 

It was late that night, and Gendry couldn't sleep, so he was praying in the godswood. Ghost was by his side, as the direwolf was not seen as fit to bring down to Dorne where the hot climate could kill him. Gendry was petting the direwolf when he heard it.

"HELP! HELP US! SOMEONE! _PLEASE!_ " Gendry heard the girl's cries that came from the woods. He stood and began to run towards the sound of the girl's voice, but Ghost was faster.

"WHO'S THERE? WHAT'S WRONG?" He came upon two people, a man lying down on a large sled and a woman kneeling beside him. The woman was bleeding from her leg, and the man appeared to be in a trance of sorts. Suddenly, Ghost pounced upon a fox that had blood and foam on it's mouth, killing it instantly.

"Are you alright?" Gendry knelt beside the woman and inspected her wound as she shook her head. He grabbed a piece of cloth from the sled and wrapped it around the bite wound on her leg before placing her on the sled next to the man.

"You're going to be alright, I'm taking you to the healers." Gendry began to pull the sled and ran at a surprising speed towards the castle where he got the woman to the healers safely. Arya and Sansa had come down from their chambers to see what was going on.

"Gendry, who is this?" Sansa asked when she saw the young woman who's wound was being treated and wrapped.

"My name is Meera Reed, my lady." Arya smiled.

"Your father, Howland Reed, was a loyal banner man and a good friend to my father, Eddard Stark. The Reeds are always welcome at Winterfell." Meera's dark green eyes widened.

"You mean this is Winterfell? And you're a Stark?" Arya nodded.

"What does that mean for you?" Sansa asked coolly.

"Check on the man in the sled, he's in the other room. You'll want to see him, my ladies." Gendry followed the ladies Stark into the other room and watched as Arya and Sansa gasped at the young man now sitting up in the sled.

"Bran!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those wondering, the Valyrian words exchanged between Calysta and Ambrose were: "We do not speak of her babe's father! The time has come for sleep." and "But why, brother?" Also! I am so sorry for the delay in this update, I'be been visiting with family and I haven't had much time to write this chapter. But I will be going back home tomorrow and updates will be more frequent and higher quality:) thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Arya teaches Gendry, the Starks receive a letter, and something is not right in the middle of the night.

Arya was crying as she embraced her crippled brother. Bran was alive and unharmed. He was in Winterfell, happy, alive, and well. Bran had not been lost to the many faced god. He was okay. Sansa had fallen to her knees and sobbed tears of joy as she embraced her brother, ignoring the consequences that came in the difficulty of standing again. Everything was a blur of tears, explanations, introductions, hugs, and smiles. By the time Bran had been returned to his chambers, he knew about Rickon's death, Sansa's pregnancy and how it came it be, Arya's travels and the Frey pies, who Gendry was, why he was in Winterfell, who Ambrose and Calysta were, and why they were in Winterfell. Meera Reed had a nasty bite from the fox on her calf, but it was nothing that the healers couldn't fix. She had asked Sansa if she might be able to stay in Bran's room with him to sleep. Bran had asked if she could as well. The lady hand was so ecstatic to have her brother back that she allowed them to share a room for as long as they'd like.

Sansa was incredibly tired and sore from the day's strenuous activities, so she escorted Meera and Bran to their chambers before falling asleep herself. Arya watched as one by one, everyone started to retreat back to their chambers. All except for Gendry.

"Jon mentioned something about continuing your studies when he left. What are you studying?" Arya was fastening a grey cloak around her neck as she spoke. She had noticed how Gendry stared at her often with The Look, and it made her confused. She didn't understand The Look and why it came upon his face when he looked at her in moments of silence. She wasn't stupid, and knew how to read anyone's face to recognize emotions. She learned to read faces like books in Braavos. But she couldn't read Gendry's. His emotions and intentions were all clouded and foggy to her intelligent mind. He was giving her The Look at that very moment with the striking electric blue eyes of a Baratheon.

"Why are you putting on a cloak?" He inquired as he tied his own plain black cloak around his neck.

"You didn't answer my question." She pulled the fur trimmed hood onto her head of dark and silky hair before he did the same.

"Your answer's likely shorter than mine." Arya shrugged and nodded as they both exited the small room where she had been reunited with her brother.

"I'm coming with you to your room behind the forge." He furrowed his brow in confusion as she opened the door that led outside and exited through it as he jogged to catch up to her.

"Why?" She shrugged again as they made their way to the forge.

"Why not? We can have pleasant conversations and catch up with each other. You never talk about the times you had after escaping Dragonstone, but you were gone for five years, so you must have _some_ stories about that period of time." It was Gendry that shrugged this time.

"You have a good point." Arya looked at Gendry, frustrated that she couldn't read his face to reveal his emotions, so she decided to read his body to reveal truths of his physicality.

"You've grown used to the weather here." He furrowed his brow as they neared the forge.

"How can you tell?" She grinned, feeling happy that she could read him accurately, even if not in the way that she had originally desired.

"You don't shiver. I used to be the same when I was little and my body was used to the cold of the North. But now my body is used to the climate of Braavos, where the sun shines bright and the air is thick and warm. It's been months since I've been in that free city, but my body still insists on behaving like it's in Braavos." As they entered the hot forge, she removed her cloak and very suddenly became very aware of the fact that she was still in her night dress. It was a black, shapeless, and long sleeved garment made of soft satin that stopped above her ankles and bore a neckline low enough that it revealed a bit of her cleavage. A surge of self consciousness overpowered her and she folded her arms over her chest as they entered the back room that was Gendry's chambers.

"You're quite observant." She nodded as she sat down on one of the stools at the table. Gendry sat down in a stool across the table from Arya, facing her.

"I am. But you still haven't answered my question about your studies." Gendry gave a small grin before responding.

"I've been learning how to read and write. I've also been learning about arithmetic, the extensive history of Westeros and the foreign lands of Essos, and about the politics and science of war." Arya nodded her head. It was easy to forget that Gendry was illiterate. It was _very_ easy to forget that he had also never received a formal education growing up with the wisdom that he showed in meetings with the small council. She knew that he was given a different kind of education than her. Where she had been taught how to live in a castle, he had learned how to live on the streets. Where she had been taught how to be a good ruler, he learned how to be a good subject. Where she had been taught that survival meant prosperity, he had learned that survival meant living to see another day.

"How are you doing with learning those things?" He looked down at the table, a shameful look on his face.

"Not so well, I'm afraid." Arya figured that it couldn't be easy adjusting to life in a position of power without literacy or knowledge of history.

"Let me tutor you. I can help you learn if you let me." Gendry laughed and looked back into Arya's eyes.

"You're already training me to fight as a soldier, why also take on the responsibility of being my tutor for things that you probably learned at the age of six?" It was Arya's turn to laugh.

"Because helping you learn these things will help you be a better advisor to Jon. And also because you and Sansa are the two people in Winterfell that I enjoy spending time with, and spending all my time with Sansa can get a bit repetitive." Gendry nodded his head as he smiled. She enjoyed looking at his face when he smiled. It suited him quite nicely. He had nice teeth, which was surprising because he had grown up unable to afford the cleaning pastes. His teeth were a creamy white color and only slightly crooked. They were perfect teeth because they were imperfect in the most perfect way. He had lovely lips as well. They weren't plump, but they weren't thin either and they had a nice rosy pink color. Arya imagined that they would feel warm against her own. As soon as that thought came to her head, she shook herself out of her thoughts and began to wonder why she was thinking about kissing Gendry. _You don't kiss boys, you kill them. You're not a lady like Sansa. You're an assassin. You don't kiss boys, and you won't kiss Gendry._ She thought the words to herself, and she could not imagine why she felt the way that she did when she thought about the fact that she wouldn't kiss him. _He's your friend, and you haven't got many of those left. Don't ruin everything by thinking about kissing him._ Arya was torn away from her thoughts when Gendry spoke.

"So you really want to tutor me?" Arya grinned as she rolled her eyes.

"Don't be stupid, of course I want to tutor you! I want to help you, Gendry. You won't be stressed about not learning anything if someone's there to teach you." His smile went into something softer and he got The Look on his face again.

"Thank you, Arya. Truly, thank you." She smiled softly and then stood.

"You're quite welcome. Now, how far are you in learning to read?" Gendry looked to the ground in embarrassment.

"I'm starting to learn the sounds of words that aren't spelled the way they sound." Arya nodded and they began their lesson. She pulled a book out of the shelf and began to explain the sounds of words like "knight" and why the K and G were silent. Arya didn't know exactly how long she stayed with Gendry in the back room of his forge before she stood up and declared that she was tired and had to leave.

"Let me walk you back to the castle." Arya rolled her eyes with a grin.

"Gendry, I can find my way back just fine. And if anyone wishes to inflict harm upon me, I have two daggers and needle to protect me." Gendry swallowed and stepped forward, making the space between them slightly smaller, so she was now an arms length away from him.

"I want to walk you back." Arya couldn't identify the emotion that she felt as they left the forge together and walked through the snow back towards the castle. She didn't understand why that emotion compelled her to take his arm as she shivered in the cold. And she didn't understand why she wished he'd come into her room with her as she lay in her bed, all alone.

 

When she woke that morning and went down to the great hall for breakfast, Sansa, Bran, and Gendry were sitting close together as the lady hand held a large raven scroll.

"Arya! It's a message from Jon, come quickly, I'm reading it aloud." Arya hurried over to the table as her sister read out the letter.

"Dearest sisters,

Today we reached the White Harbor and have just boarded our ship south to Dorne. It's got Targaryen sails, and allegedly this was a ship from Rhaegar Targaryen's fleet. Not only was it from his fleet, but it also was allegedly his personal warship. I'm staying in what was once his chambers. The dragon queen had it sent up to us here as a gift. There's not much news to report from here, except that I found an old diary. I have yet to read it. How is life in Winterfell? Have I missed anything? Ask Gendry about his progress with his studies and training. I miss you both. And I miss Gendry. I send my prayers from the sea. With love,

Jon." Sansa gave the hint of a smile as she put the parchment down on the table. She then proceeded to tell a serving girl to fetch her parchment, a quill, and ink. Within ten minutes, Sansa was writing back, telling Jon everything that happened since he left. After breakfast, which had a bit of slightly pleasant conversation, Arya took Gendry out into the training yard and handed him a war hammer.

"Look at this straw man. He's wearing armor, so you'll know where to hit an actual man when faced with him in actual combat." The hours they spent training slipped by before it was time for the midday meal. Arya could already tell how much more comfortable Gendry was with a hammer than with a sword. She was proud of herself for making that revelation. When they finished the midday meal, she left to deal with finances along with Sansa, who had been feeling too tired to deal with it all alone. When the costs of the war had been dealt with, she fastened a heavy velvet cloak around her neck and visited Gendry in his forge to help him with his studies. And that was how her days went for the next few weeks. She began to fall into a rhythm, finally feeling safe at Winterfell with her family. She was at peace, and nothing could bring her down.

Until the night she heard Sansa screaming from her chambers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! I am so sorry that this update has taken more than a week, I expected that once I got home from visiting family that I would have more time on my hands to write. But since I came back from winter break, I've been at school so I've had lots of work to do and not as much time to write. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It's a bit of a filler, but this time there really is a big part coming up. It was originally supposed to be in this chapter, but I decided to post what I already had and make the rest into the next chapter. I hope you enjoyed! Also! Here are the ages of all the main characters currently.
> 
> Arya - 17  
> Gendry - 22  
> Sansa - 19  
> Ambrose - 20  
> Jon - 22  
> Calysta - 4  
> Bran - 16  
> Meera - 16  
> Daenerys - 20


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Arya comforts her sister and learns the best kept secret of all time.

Arya sprung from her bed and ran to her sister's chambers, where she found that the kingsguard who was supposed to be guarding her chambers was absent. She swung open the heavy oak door to find Sansa thrashing about in her bed screaming and crying, her blue eyes shut tight. She could barely make out the words that her pregnant sister was shouting, until one sentence was delivered loud and clear.

"RAMSAY, PLEASE! _STOP!_ " Arya ran to her sister's side and shook her shoulders.

"Sansa! _Sansa!_ " Suddenly, her orange haired sister sat up, her blue eyes reddened and wet with tears, dashing about in the dark trying to see something, anything. Arya quickly turned to her night table and lit a match to light a candle.

"It's me. It's Arya. You're safe now." Sansa saw her sister and collapsed into her arms, her sobs echoing throughout the room. "Ramsay is dead. He's gone." Sansa shook her head as she continued to sob into Arya's chest.

"He's not gone! He's not dead! He _lives_ inside me! His son lives in my womb, feeding off of my energy, making me weaker and weaker with each passing day. And I will have to go through childbirth to deliver his son into the world. I feel him stirring inside me, alive and well. Ramsay said it, before he was devoured. _You can't kill me. I'm a part of you now._ I didn't know how right he was." Arya stroked her sister's hair and made shushing noises as she felt tiny feet kicking from inside Sansa's large belly against her thigh.

"You survived the worst of Ramsay Bolton. The storm has passed, and you can raise the child with the morals of a Stark instead of a Bolton. You can ensure that the cruelty of his father will not live in him." Sansa shook her head.

"Sweet sister, you don't understand. The gods are far too spiteful to allow me peace." She spoke with a grave tone, her words still shaking from the tears. Not a moment after, the kingsguard who was supposed to be on duty outside of Sansa's doors, Ser Harold Hardyng, ran into the room.

"My lady, I beg your pardon, I was only gone for a minute to relieve myself I didn't mean —" Arya silenced the knight from the Vale with a menacing glare.

"Stand outside my sister's door, Hardyng. And be there to protect her when she wakes up screaming, because next time, it might not be from a nightmare." Arya snarled at the kingsguard before he nodded and took his place outside of the door after closing it. She continued to hold her sister until the two fell asleep on Sansa's featherbed into deep slumbers. It was Arya who woke first, and she thought about how much had changed since they were children. They had despised each other as girls. And now they clung to each other because they knew that they had so little of their family left and because so much had changed.

It was barely dawn and Arya was dressed and headed to the godswood to pray. As she approached the weirwood tree, she heard the voices of Bran and Meera.

"When will you tell them? You've been back for weeks, Bran! When will you let them know about your vision?" Arya crouched behind a snow covered bush and watched as her brother and Meera argued.

"It's not that simple, Meera! I can't just tell them that Jon isn't our brother, this kind of thing takes lots of planning and time." The words hit Arya like a ton of bricks. _Jon isn't our brother?_ Questions raced through her mind as Meera responded.

"But they need to know! And _soon!_ " He shook his head.

"Think of what will happen when they find out that Jon is a Targaryen! Who will back the king in the North when they find out he's not actually a Stark?" Arya's head was spinning and her heart was pounding. _Jon's a Targaryen?_ Meera rolled her eyes.

"He never had the Stark name. All that anyone cares about is that he has Stark blood, which he does have!" Bran rolled his eyes in turn.

"Yes he has Stark blood, but through Lyanna, not through my father. The northsmen rallied behind the man they thought to be the son of Eddard Stark because he led them through Robert's Rebellion. Lyanna Stark _started_ Robert's Rebellion by running off with Rhaegar, why would anyone rally behind her son?" Every word swirled around Arya. Jon was not her brother, but her cousin. He was a Targaryen. His blood, his life, his _existence_ was both a secret and a lie.

"They don't care about his parents, Bran! Yes, having Stark blood helps him, but they know the kind of man that he is. They know that he is a leader and they know that he is their king. It won't change anything if you let them know!" Bran sighed, clearly conflicted.

"Maybe it's not the people he commands that we have to worry about so much as his aunt. If Daenerys Stormborn finds out that he's a Targaryen, that puts him before her in the line of succession for the iron throne. She'll want him dead and she has three dragons who can easily do the job." Meera grew quiet. Arya's head was spinning as she got up and ran away from the scene, silent as a shadow. She ran back to the castle where she went up to the highest of the roofless walls and laid down to watch the sun cast orange and pink rays of light across the morning sky to calm her racing heart and mind.

That morning at breakfast, Arya became very aware of the looks and nods that Meera made to Bran as if to say _tell them_. Arya ate her food with a slight tremor in her hands due to the nerves of knowing the secret Bran so desperately wanted to hide. It was Ambrose who spoke first that morning.

"My lady hand— " Sansa put up a hand to silence him.

"Please, that formality is a mouthful. Just call me Sansa." Ambrose nodded with a smile that he attempted to contain.

"Of course, _Sansa._ I was just wondering about the crypts of Winterfell. I found this old book in the library that goes into the history of the construction of this ancient castle and there are rumors that the crypts cover more ground than the castle itself. I have been wondering, is there is any truth to this?" Sansa began to smile as she launched into a long discussion about the architecture of her ancestral home. Arya was sitting next to Gendry, still quite tense, when she felt his hand rest on her arm.

"What's wrong?" Arya considered taking the easy way out by lying and saying that it was nothing. But something in her gut compelled her to tell him the truth, even if the truth wouldn't come out at that very moment.

"I can't speak about it here." Gendry nodded before removing his hand from her arm and interrupting Sansa's speech about the mysteries of the crypts.

"Sansa, do you want to show us the crypts? The more you talk about them, the more I'd like to go down there and see it myself." The orange haired lady nodded eagerly and took Brienne's arm to help her stand. As the small party (Sansa, Bran, Ambrose, Calysta, Meera, Arya, Gendry, and Brienne) left the table and began to wander down the spiral staircase into the crypts, Arya and Gendry fell behind the rest of the group until they were out of eyeshot and earshot, walking amongst the statues of the first wardens of the North and lords of Winterfell where the others were ahead of them at the next lowest level of the last of the kings in the North. Arya was holding onto his arm as they strolled through the crypts.

"So, do you want to tell me what was making your hands shake like a baby rattle at breakfast?" Arya sighed loudly as she recounted the conversation Bran had with Meera in the godswood in her head before saying it aloud.

"This morning, I went to the godswood to pray. When I got there, Bran and Meera were having a discussion and I listened. They said that... that..." Arya struggled to admit out loud that her favorite brother, one of her best friends, and trusted confidant, was not her sibling, but her cousin.

"If you don't want to tell me, that's alright." She shook her head as they passed the tomb of her great grandfather, Rodrick 'The Wandering Wolf' Stark.

"No, I want to tell you. I heard Bran and Meera discussing Jon's parentage." Gendry furrowed his brow before widening his electric blue eyes.

"You mean they found out who his mother is?" Arya swallowed in nervousness.

"They found out who his _father_ is." Gendry cocked his head in confusion.

"I don't understand." Arya inhaled deeply before explaining.

"Jon isn't actually my brother. He's my cousin. He is the son of the former crown prince of dragonstone, Rhaegar Targaryen and my aunt, lady Lyanna Stark of Winterfell." Gendry was stunned silent for a solid minute before responding.

"How do they know?" Arya shook her head as she shrugged.

"Meera said something about Bran having a vision, but really thinking about it, it all makes sense. Jon was born around the same time that father was in Dorne to rescue my aunt. It's said that she died in a bed of her own blood from a fever, but she must have actually died giving birth to Jon. Father once said that the last words Lyanna ever spoke were ' _Promise me, Ned._ ' But he never said what he promised her. It must have been a vow to protect Jon, as Robert Baratheon wanted every last Targaryen killed. By saying that Jon was his bastard son, my father was honoring his sister's dying wish by protecting her only child." As Gendry took it all in, Arya stopped walking, stopping him in the process.

"This is her final resting place." She looked at the statue, studying the face of her aunt's stone likeness. "She's the only lady of Winterfell to have a statue at her tomb. My father made sure that her remains made it back here from the Tower of Joy in Dorne." When she stole a glance at Gendry, she noticed that he was staring at her.

"You know you look exactly like this statue, right?" Arya laughed at his comment.

"Lyanna Stark was said to be the most beautiful woman in all of Westeros when she was alive." He looked at her with The Look once more.

"Why does that make you doubt resemblance?" Arya shrugged casually.

"I may not be ugly, but I know that I'm no Lyanna Stark." Gendry shook his head.

"Arya, you're beautiful." She was surprised at that comment. She knew that she was no longer the scrawny little girl that she was when she and Gendry met, but she was nowhere near beautiful. Beautiful was a word used to describe Sansa or her mother. She was no beauty. "Truly, Arya. You're absolutely stunning." She wanted to scoff at her friends' stupidity and blindness, but that indescribable feeling returned, causing her heart to beat a little faster and her breath to come a little harder.

"Thank you, Gendry." The pair didn't speak for a while as they rejoined the rest of the group at the main entrance to the crypts and went back up into the daylight. They trained as usual, ate their midday meal as usual, and at night, they studied as usual. And Arya noticed the way that Gendry looked at her for a little longer than necessary, how his touches lingered, and his words fumbled when their eyes met. That was not usual. So Arya left back for her chambers as usual. She fell asleep as usual. And that night, she dreamt of Jon. That was not usual. He was pacing his cabin holding a ravenscroll, speaking with Jaime Lannister. The words sounded like they were underwater, except for one sentence that was crystal clear to her ears.

"They've begun to breach the wall. The whitewalkers have come to Westeros."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! So this update is a lot sooner than I had originally anticipated, but it really seemed to write itself! I couldn't stop writing all day, which is bad for that chemistry presentation I was supposed to create over the weekend. But I hope you enjoy this update! I have big plans in store for this fic:) Thank you for reading and especially thank you if you left kudos or a comment:)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which we get a Jon chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Mentions of rape

Jon and everyone else had been sailing for a month when they arrived early in Dorne. They were welcomed by a band of soldiers from the army of the Unsullied. They then were escorted on horseback to Sunspear where Ser Jaime began to stop with his usual joking banter and became sullen and somber. Jon then remembered that his only daughter, Myrcella, was killed in Dorne. He then winced at his decision to bring Jaime instead of any other member of the kingsguard because of that particular fact. When they were brought into Sunspear, they were led into a room with soft couches with open walls that looked out onto the lush and exotic gardens. Sitting on a large, cushioned chair was the dragon queen herself. Her hair truly was a silvery hue, her eyes a bright lilac, and her demeanor screamed _powerful._ At her side, there was a woman with creamy skin, black eyes, and dark hair in tight coils around her head standing next to a man who Jon presumed to be the Lord Commander of the Unsullied army. An older man, perhaps in his late forties or early fifties, who Jon assumed to be Ser Jorah Mormont, stood beside the queen as well next to a bald man in colorful robes, who could only be the spider, Lord Varys. Jon then remembered his formalities.

"Your grace, I am honored with this opportunity to be granted audience with you." Daenerys raised her left hand from its place on the left arm of the chair and motioned for him to sit.

"It is an honor to meet you as well, King Jon. Please, sit." He sat down in her chair's twin, facing her across the long table. There was a bit of an uncomfortable pause as everyone stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do. "Your friends as well." Jaime and Bronn stood on either side of the chair where Jon sat as everyone took seats on the large two couches that faced the length of the long table. "When I received word of your position, I was sailing in from Mereen with my army. As you know, the iron throne is practically up for the taking for whomever wants it, thanks to the lone wolf." Jon cocked his head to the side as a serving girl poured wine into a goblet that sat on the table in the middle of the two chairs and two couches and handed it to him.

"The lone wolf?" Daenerys was handed a goblet of wine and sipped from it leisurely.

"Your half sister, lady Arya Stark. She _is_ responsible for eliminating Cersei Lannister, you know. Now. You have the support of the Vale, the Stormlands, the North, the Riverlands, and the Westerlands. House Tully of Riverrun is still recovering from the war and their lord is just fresh out of imprisonment. From what I understand, the Westerlands were quite uneasy with supporting your cause while the false queen Cersei Lannister sat the iron throne. So, you have solid support from the Vale, solid support from the North, and solid support from the Stormlands. I have the Unsullied army, every Dothraki khalasar, the freed men of Astapor, Yunkai, and Mereen fighting for me. In my navy, I have one thousand ships comprised of house Redwyne, house Tyrell, house Martell, the fleet of the former Slavers, and house Greyjoy. Even if I didn't have any armies or a navy, I still have three dragons. You have some options, King Snow. You can either wage war against myself and my armies for the iron throne, or— " Jon put up a hand to stop her.

"There's no need for another war. I'm done fighting battles that don't need to be fought. I lost my father, my step mother, and all three of my brothers to war. I'm not here to discuss wars. I'm here to discuss an alliance." Daenerys smiled a closed mouth smile.

"Good. Now, I think we both know the best way to make alliances is through marriage. From what I understand, you remain unmarried, correct?" Jon nodded his head.

"I am unmarried." An image of his fiery haired wilding flashed before his eyes and he could feel the utter agony beginning to creep up on him as he realized the truth of his statement. _I never married Ygritte. I never will marry Ygritte._

"Good. We'll be wed tomorrow morning then." Jon almost protested, but he saw something in the queen's purple eyes. He saw himself. He saw the hurt that he felt, and he knew that her heart had been given to another already. He was torn from his thoughts as he heard a familiar voice coming from a hall behind the queen.

"Apologies, your grace, I didn't mean to arrive late." Tyrion Lannister strode into the room and stopped abruptly as he saw his brother standing behind Jon Snow. Jaime Lannister and his little brother had always been close, and they hadn't seen each other since before Tyrion had killed their father. They were the only Lannisters left. "Jaime?" The kingslayer, despite himself, started to smile.

"Hello brother. It's been a long time since we last met." The dwarf smiled back.

"Far too long. I see you've remained a knight of the kingsguard." Jaime laughed and nodded his head.

"And I see you've become a hand of the queen." Daenerys spoke up.

"I apologize for interrupting your little reunion, but that brings up a subject that I've been meaning to address since you and your friends arrived, King Jon. Where is your hand? I have been told that the position went to your half sister, lady Sansa Stark." Jon swallowed.

"Sansa rules in my stead at Winterfell, your grace." Daenerys arched a brow.

"Is that truly the reason for her absence?" He swallowed as he shook his head.

"The lady hand is 8 moons pregnant, your grace. It would not have been safe for her to travel given the circumstances." Tyrion Lannister's eyes went wide and Jon remembered Sansa telling him about her unconsummated marriage to the dwarf.

"Who's babe does she carry?" The dwarf inquired, sounding happy for her.

"Ramsay Bolton's." Jon spoke the name with such intense hatred and venom, everyone who stood by Daenerys seemed to understand that Sansa's babe was conceived from violence in the place of passion.

"I see." Tyrion quieted and stood next to the silver queen and there was an uncomfortable silence.

"Well, if we're going to be planning an alliance, we can't very well sit around in silence, now can we?" Jon shook himself from his memories of satisfyingly punching Ramsay and forced a smile at the silver queen. "So, when we're married tomorrow morning, you will then be back off to Winterfell after swearing fealty to me." Daenerys stood, her loose fitting dress shining like oil on water. She seemed to say _we're done here,_ but Jon was not yet finished.

"Actually this brings up a point that _I_ wanted to discuss. Your grace, if you might sit back down?" Daenerys arched a brow, but complied. "Now, if I'm not mistaken, you must be ser Jorah Mormont, correct?" The older knight standing next to the queen nodded. "I knew your father, Lord Commander Jeor Mormont. Before his death, he named me his personal steward and groomed me for command at the Night's Watch. I served as Lord Commander after his death, but the transition was not quick, nor was it easy." Jorah put a hand up to silence Jon.

"If you served as Lord Commander as the Night's Watch, what are you doing here as a king? Your vows state that you shall wear no crowns and win no glory, yet you have done both. The Night's Watch vows are for life. Why shouldn't we have you executed as a deserter?" A grim look overcame Jon's face and thoughts as he looked to Ser Davos Seaworth sitting on one of the couches.

"Because I've already been executed." Jon removed his cotton shirt to reveal the scars on his chest and stomach left by the brothers who betrayed him. "When I allowed freefolk south of the wall, many of my brothers didn't agree with my decision. So they led me into a trap and took turns stabbing me. They left me to die in the snow." As the Northern king put his shirt back on, Davos spoke up.

"I am not the only one here who can testify the truth of this. I saw his body on the table. His body had gone cold, his heart had stopped beating, and his lungs ceased to breathe air." Tormund nodded in agreement.

"I saw his body. I saw him come back, human, and very much alive after being very much dead." Daenerys furrowed her brows in thought before turning to Tyrion and the woman with the curled hair and creamy skin.

"Don't bother asking about resurrection, your grace. It is very rarely practiced successfully. But there are some priests and priestesses of the red god, R'hollor, who have the gift of bringing the newly deceased back. A red priestess by the name of Melissandre had said gift. I pledged my life to the Night's Watch and I gave my life to the Night's Watch." Daenerys' lilac eyes were wide in wonder and disbelief after seeing his scars.

"And why do you still speak of the Night's Watch? What point did you wish to bring up?" Jon inhaled before looking into the purple eyes of the dragon queen.

"There are few people who die by the wall and come back with any life, your grace. I have been north of the wall. I have seen the Night King. I let the freefolk south of the wall so they wouldn't become meat for the army of the dead. We've received reports that the dead walk south of the wall now. The white walkers are back, and Winter is here. The long night has come. If the rumors are to be believed, you have three dragons and the island of dragonstone. There are three things in this world that can kill a white walker: Fire, Valyrian steel, and dragon glass. I don't know about the Valyrian steel, but your dragons would have plenty of fire, and Dragonstone is filled to the brim with obsidian. This alliance is one that not just I need, but all of humanity. No one will be safe from the dead when they come. The sun won't protect you, the mountains won't protect you, your own friends won't protect you because they _can't._ But if we go North, we can end the Long Night. We can destroy the army of the dead if you come North. The iron throne is yours for the taking when we're finished, I never wanted it anyways. If anything, I wished to rule a sovereign North. But before we discuss our terms of thrones and who rules who, we must save the kingdoms that will be ruled. Do we have a deal?" Daenerys put up a hand to stop a whisper from Varys before she stood. She walked over to Jon and extended her arm as she stared into his grey eyes.

"I would be a fool and a madman if I wanted to rule the seven kingdoms of Westeros without any Westerosi." As Jon took her arm, he felt a sort of heat in his veins. It wasn't like the kind of heat that he felt with Ygritte, far from it. It felt like he had found someone that he... _connected_ with in a way that words couldn't explain. He could tell that Daenerys felt it too from the widening of her eyes and the slight gape of her mouth. But the look was gone as soon as it had come and she dropped her clutch on his arm.

"We must not delay in riding North then. I'll send the Unsullied to the Crownlands to seize the iron throne and hold it for me. The Martells should stay in Dorne, along with the Tyrells and the Redwynes." Daenerys had turned to her small council and was giving them orders before turning back to Jon with a grin. "Tell me, King Jon, would you like to meet a dragon?"

~

Dany led Jon to the sand dunes where Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion had been sleeping. They now stirred, and watched as their mother approached them with the stranger. Jon's two kingsguard knights, Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Bronn of the Black Water, stood guard a good distance away. She watched as Jon's dark grey eyes had gone wide at the sight of her children. What she hadn't expected was for Jon to not fear them.

"King Jon, be careful. Drogon won't let anyone but me touch him, and he barely even lets _me_ do that." The bastard king nodded his head before he began to approach Rhaegal, the second largest of her dragons.

"What is this one's name again?" Daenerys thought back to the end of the meeting, when they had made a pact. She had felt the heat flowing through her veins like that with only one other person her entire life: Viserys. She watched in confusion and grew nervous as Jon got closer and closer to her green and bronze dragon.

"His name is Rhaegal. I named him after my older brother, Rhaegar. Many said that he would have been an excellent king." Jon stopped and looked at Dany with a confused expression on his face.

"Not meaning to offend, your grace, but your brother Rhaegar kidnapped and raped my aunt, Lyanna Stark. She died in my father's arms when he went to rescue her." Daenerys was taken aback. She had heard that her eldest brother had a fling with the norther lady but she had never heard that the poor girl was kidnapped and raped.

"I had always heard that they had had a fling and Elia Martell had to send her away from court." The bastard king shook his head again.

"Lyanna was never a lady of the court, your grace. Rhaegar took her not ten leagues from Harrenhal where they had met a year prior to a place called the tower of joy in Dorne. It's said that he raped her there and she died months later in a bed of her own blood in my father's arms." Daenerys squinted her eyes before turning around and beckoning the two kingsguard knights over to them.

"Ser Jaime. You served my in my father's kingsguard— " Jaime winced.

"Apologies again, your grace, he would have had the population of King's Landing burned. I had to do what I could to protect the people." Daenerys shook her head and made an _it's nothing_ face.

"He was a madman and a cruel king, you did the right thing. I'm wondering how well you knew my brother, Rhaegar." Jaime almost smiled at the mention of her brother's name.

"I knew him quite well, your grace. We were close friends, although not nearly as close as himself and Arthur Dayne. Your brother was diplomatic, kind, fair, and honorable. Of course, a certain woman caught his eye and he strayed from his marriage vows, but even the best of us break our vows sometimes." Daenerys had heard the rumors about Jaime and his twin, but she was no one to talk as she was a product of incest herself.

"I wouldn't count kidnap and rape as straying from one's marriage vows." It was at that moment that Jaime gave a sort of knowing smile, as if he knew a great secret that no one else did.

"I wouldn't call what went down between Rhaegar and Lyanna kidnap or rape." As Dany spent a minute trying to decipher what he could mean, she heard Rhaegal screech. But he was not behind her. He was in the sky, flying. And on his back was the King in the North, Jon Snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! So I had a bit of writer's block for a little while but I'm back on my feet and I know where I want to go with this story next. A bit a of a timeline jump, I'm basically measuring time in Sansa's pregnancy lol and she is now around 8 months or 36 weeks. So Jon and Dany met! I want to explore their dynamic more, see where their relationship goes, but for right now I'm happy with how it has started! I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, I'll hopefully have chapter 9 up by next week! Thank you so much for reading and especially thank you if you left kudos or a comment:) Bye!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which there is a small council meeting, the Starks receive a letter from Jon, and an old friend is reunited with Arya.

Gendry wondered why it was always him that people woke in the middle of the night with urgent business.

It was the middle of the night when Arya came into his chambers in a pair of tight fitted leather breeches that the Braavosi called _leggings_ , a tight fitted white tunic, brown boots, and a black cloak, shaking him awake.

"Arya...? What's going on?" He mumbled as he sat up from his bed. She stood quickly and he noticed that her dark hair fell loose around her face. It suited her very well, and made her look like an angel.

"There's a small council meeting. Now." Gendry nodded his head before standing and stretching. He caught a glimpse of Arya's eyes widening at him as he became aware of the fact that he was only wearing a pair of wool breaches and no shirt. He hurried to get dressed and she led him out of the forge as they hurried to Sansa's solar. When they arrived, everyone else was already sitting at the table. Brienne, Wyman, Sansa, Bran, and an unfamiliar man in Night's Watch clothes sat looking at them. Bran's crutches sat propped up against his seat. He used the odd contraptions to walk, and it really worked well. Arya and Gendry quickly took their seats and the orange haired lady began the meeting.

"White walkers have made it south of the wall. Everyone in the Gift has been sent notice to stock up on dry grass, wood, flint stones, candles, torches, straw, anything and everything that can catch on fire. Dragon glass is being shipped in the masses from Dragonstone, and the Night's Watch has been stocking up provisions and will soon be working to re-inhabit the sixteen abandoned castles of the Wall, according to Satin Flowers here. We should be safe for the time being, but there will be chaos as people try to flee." Wyman Manderly spoke up.

"There have already been reports of the Umbers leaving the Last Hearth due to an uprising of their household guard and staff." Sansa gave the hint of a smile. The Umbers had betrayed Rickon and his protector, Osha, by turning them in to the Boltons which led to both of their eventual deaths.

"Good. It's high time those savages get what was coming for them." Wyman continued to discuss with Sansa about raising taxes on those who travelled the Kingsroad through the North as Gendry watched Arya. She was nervous. He could tell by the way that she fidgeted with her fingers and tapped her feet on the ground. After an hour or so, Brienne yawned and Sansa concluded that it was time for bed and they would reconvene on the morrow. As everyone left Sansa's solar, Gendry gently took Arya by the hand.

"Are you alright?" Arya exhaled shakily before she shook her head.

"I didn't believe that the white walkers could make it past the wall. It was always something that just _couldn't_ happen, and now it has." Arya grew quiet before reaching out and gently stroked a stone in a wall.

"What are you doing?" Gendry asked, unable to think of anything else to console his friend. She turned and put on a convincing expression that made Gendry almost believe that she was okay. But it was just that expression of being suddenly alright that caused Gendry to worry.

"Nothing. We should get to bed, it's late. Goodnight Gendry." She turned away from him and rounded a corner into a hallway that led to her chambers. He went after her and lightly grabbed her arm gently before she could open the heavy oak door to her chambers.

"Do you want to talk?" Arya stood stiffly before nodding her head, opening the door, and walked to her bed where she then sat. Gendry was unsure of where to go, so he stood awkwardly by the open door where a knight of Jon's kingsguard, Ser Edric Dayne, was standing guard before he tentatively closed it. Arya sighed and dropped her head in her hands.

"We're going to have to abandon Winterfell." It was a solid statement. No question about it.

"Don't say that." She looked up at Gendry with a mix of hurting tears and slight anger in her silver eyes.

"And why not?" He walked over to her and knelt before her, so he was looking up at her perfect face. Her bed was fairly low, so there was only a couple of inches of a height difference.

"Because it isn't true. You're a Stark of Winterfell, and you're not going to abandon this castle. The Starks are the sons and daughters of winter, you are _direwolves_ , so don't think for a second that this is going to chase you out." Gendry didn't mean to reach out and hold Arya's hands, it was an instinctive move, but when he did he felt a surge of warmth flow through his veins from where their skin touched. It was at that moment that she looked at him with tears in her grey eyes.

"The Umbers have occupied the Last Hearth since the days of the first men. They were petty kings even before my ancestors ruled the north. If they left their ancestral home, why wouldn't we leave ours?" Gendry felt like he didn't have anything left to say, but he spoke anyways.

"Because the Starks are not Umbers. The Umbers were petty kings and the Starks reigned as kings in the North for thousands of years, as you do again now. The Umbers are traitorous and weak while Starks remain strong and loyal." Gendry wasn't sure what higher power was causing him to reach up to Arya's face and wipe away a tear falling down her cheek, but it sure as the seven hells wasn't his own brain telling him to do it. "Not to mention, Winterfell is much farther south." He spoke that sentence with a lighthearted tone of voice, earning him a single laugh from Arya's lips. He didn't know how he came to sit on her bed next to her, or how they ended up lying down next to each other. He surely didn't know how he woke up the next morning to find his arm draped over her waist with her body pressed neatly into his. Gendry began to think back to the last time they slept like this. Back when she was a scrawny little girl and he was a stupid bull of a man barely grown into the title, and he couldn't appreciate the absolute perfection of her, being a lady but still accepting him, a bastard blacksmith, as family with no second thoughts. As he thought back to those summer nights, she stirred.

"Did you pull a knife on me in the night?" Gendry realized with a panic that his whole body was awake, and his cock was as hard as the steel he hammered into swords. He then instantly tore himself away from her and scrambled out of the bed.

"I- I- uh- fuck- you see, I- _shit!_ " Arya simply laughed as she got out of bed and stretched her arms and legs, letting out a small yawn. The sun had barely risen above the clouds outside as Gendry attempted to distract himself by looking out of her window. The tower that solely held her chambers was high up, higher than any other tower in all of Winterfell. When he looked out of the window, he could see the tops of the trees in the Wolfswood, the red leaves of the weirwood in the Winterfell godswood standing out in particular.

"Don't worry about it. That's not the first time that's happened, it's only the first time that you woke up before me and realized that it _had_ happened." She spoke the words with a slight chuckle before turning around to face him. Her dark hair was messy and tangled, her eyes were slightly puffy from sleep, and her clothes were wrinkled, yet she still looked like the epitome of beauty to Gendry.

"Are you telling me that— _that_ has happened before?" He was grateful that his cock had gone limp at that point, but still mortified at the fact that his manhood had pressed against her before that morning.

"What did you expect? That just because I was sleeping next to you that you wouldn't get stiff in the morning?" Gendry could feel his face reddening as she continued to chuckle softly. "Go on now, get back to the forge. We don't want rumors to start." Gendry nodded and thanked the old gods that the kingsguard on duty outside of Arya's door was asleep, along with the entire castle staff as he hurried back to his chambers behind the forge.

A couple of hours after he had awaken next to Arya in her bed, Gendry finished hammering hot metal into swords and made his way to the great hall where everyone was sitting around the meal table. Ambrose was sitting between Sansa and Calysta, and to Gendry's great surprise, the pregnant hand was laughing at a joke that the Volantene lord was telling her. On Sansa's left, there sat Lira Manderly, silently eating her breakfast. Arya was sitting next to Bran who was between her and Meera Reed, while there was an empty chair for Gendry next to the younger of the ladies Stark. He took his seat and almost instantly, a serving girl came forward and delivered a plate of chicken and beans before him along with a tin cup of water. As he began eating, Brienne walked in with a huge smile on her face.

"Lady Sansa, lady Arya." She bowed her head to each of the ladies she served before approaching the orange haired lady hand. "A letter came in from Dorne today." Brienne handed Sansa a raven scroll before Gendry noticed the unrolled one in her other hand. Probably from Jaime Lannister. Jon had made a royal decree that the knights of his kingsguard need not take vows of celibacy, nor feel the need to swear off marriage. This was for the sole purpose of Jaime Lannister being able to marry Brienne of Tarth. The two were very clearly in love, and the moment that the golden haired knight had cursed Cersei and pledged his sword, life, and army to Jon, they had admitted it to each other. They had been married in the light of the old gods, despite the fact that both house Tarth and house Lannister followed the faith of the seven. As the tall lady knight sat down and began to break her fast, Sansa read the letter out loud.

"Dearest siblings,

I received your first letter this morning, and I am beyond ecstatic to hear that Bran is alive, well, and safe in Winterfell! Bran, I love you and I am sending my prayers for your safety. I have also received word of white walkers being spotted south of the wall. However, there is no cause for fear, as I was married to the dragon queen this morning. The rumors are true about her dragons. The smallest, Viserion, is as large as a warship. Thanks to our new alliance, we will be heading North with the three dragons tomorrow to stop the army of the dead from getting any further south. Not only will we bring dragons, but Daenerys has ordered her subjects on dragonstone to send ships filled to the brim with dragon glass weaponry to protect you, should you ever, gods forbid, happen upon a white walker. In more personal news, I have been given the great honor of mounting the dragon, Rhaegal, named for the late Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, and Dany's stillborn son, Rhaego. Her chosen mount is the largest, Drogon, named for her late husband, Khal Drogo. It's a weird sort of feeling, riding the green dragon. It's almost like I can see into his mind, and he into mine. The legitimized bastard daughters of Oberyn Martell Obara, Tyene, Nymeria, and Elia Martell, and their mother, Ellaria Sand, have been gracious hosts here in Sunspear. I miss you all and love you all dearly. I will be home within the next two months. I know you have the strength to endure your child's delivery, Sansa. I wish I could be with you when it happens. Arya, I miss you dearly and I wish to know _everything_ that is happening in your life at the moment, every single unremarkable detail. I've missed too much of your life for the past five years. Gendry, I want to hear about your studies and work. And Bran, I cannot wait to hear the stories of where the fuck you have been for the past few years. And to our guests from Volantis, may you be as gracious and polite as Sansa says. Well, I must go. My wife — _gods_ is that weird to write — is calling for me to attend a small council meeting, so I must go. I love and miss you all dearly, and I will be home with you soon. With love,

Jon." Arya had looked at Gendry with a certain knowledge in her grey eyes when Sansa read the bit about Jon having a connection to the dragon named for Rhaegar Targaryen, who unbeknownst to seemingly everybody except for Bran, Meera, Arya, and Gendry, was Jon's father. Sansa stood awkwardly with the help of her midwife. Her round belly was larger than ever, and she had taken to sitting more often. According to Lira, there were forty weeks in each pregnancy, give or take a week or two, and Sansa was about thirty seven weeks in. "I'm going to the godswood. Would anyone care to join me?" Arya looked to Gendry, who had become the person that she spent the most time with in the past month that she had been in Winterfell, and cocked her head as if to ask if he wanted to go. He shrugged in response, and the pair stood and were followed by Ambrose, Brienne, and the Vale knight of the kingsguard. Arya and Gendry trailed behind Sansa and Ambrose, who were followed closely by Brienne and Lira, and began to talk.

"How are you doing?" Arya hooked her hand onto Gendry's arm as they walked towards the godswood.

"I'm doing alright. I had a wolf dream last night. I haven't had one of those in years." He furrowed his brows in confusion.

"What's a wolf dream?" Arya began to explain that she used to have these dreams that she was seeing through the eyes of a wolf, smelling all the scents in its nose, tasting all the tastes on its tongue, feeling all the sensations that it did, and hearing every sound through its ears. When they reached the weirwood tree, the pair knelt in unison and went silent and closed their eyes as they began to pray. After a couple of minutes, Gendry heard Arya stand next to him. When he opened his eyes, he felt his heart crawl into his throat. A giant wolf with grey fur and golden eyes approached a now standing Arya who was somehow calm, and held out her hand to the beast. He could barely believe the calm on her face, but when the giant wolf nuzzled its snout into her outstretched hand, he understood, recalling the stories she used to tell about the direwolf that she drove off to protect from execution. Gendry didn't need to hear the wolf's name uttered to know who it was, but he listened as Arya whispered the name anyways.

"Nymeria."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! So I would have had this update up sooner, but I have been so incredibly busy this past week. I realize that it hasn't been all that long since my last update, but I expected it to be up sooner. But between midterms, finals, and spending all day yesterday at the women's march on washington, I have had barely any time to write. I'm surprised I was even able to write this much! But I hope you enjoyed this chapter! This one wrote itself really, when I first started writing it, I didn't intend on ending with Nymeria showing up, but I'm glad that it happened! Anyways, thank you for reading, and especially thank you if you left kudos or a comment! I hope you enjoyed, and bye bye!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which there is a misunderstanding, a romance is born, and Winterfell receives troubling news.

Arya loved Gendry's relationship with Nymeria. It was more a love of the laughs that she got out of it. Big, strong, and fearless Ser Gendry Waters nearly shit himself when her harmless direwolf appeared. Well, Nymeria was only harmless if Arya told her to be. She knew that her grey direwolf would rip out anyone's throat if she just gave the word _attack_.

The moment that Nymeria had been reunited with her last living littermate, Ghost, it had been a sight that brought tears to her eyes. It had been a week since her wolf's return, and she hadn't felt better. Despite the looming threat of the white walkers, she remained happy.

That is, until she noticed a kitchen girl, Jeyne Cerwyn, exiting the forge— _Gendry's_ forge— all pink faced and giggling, her straw blonde hair a mess of tangles.

Arya was not stupid. She knew what men wanted. She knew that Jeyne was very pretty and willing to give them what they wanted. But she never thought that Gendry was like other men. She had spent the past couple days making a little wooden bull for the blacksmith when they weren't training or tutoring. Arya was on her way to give it to him. She felt a sting in her eyes as she hurried away from the forge, feeling like an idiot as she threw the little wooden bull figurine down in the muddy, snowy ground. _Of course he wanted her. Why would he want me? I'm a cold blooded killer._ It was in that moment that Arya finally identified with a bitter irony the foreign emotion that had been filling her chest whenever she saw her bastard knight: _Love._

~

Gendry had watched Arya approach the forge before stopping, freezing, and hurrying away to the doors to the great hall from the library tower. He hadn't been in the forge all morning; he had been attempting to read a fancy book with large words so that he might impress Arya when it was time for their nightly lessons. He always looked forward to the times just after supper where he could spend time with the person he loved the most in the world. He had never imagined that she would be as perfect as she was when she came back. She was everything that he could ever want, she was all that he could ever need and it was bittersweet knowing that he would always be by her side. He knew that he was a baseborn bastard, and she was a highborn lady, the sister of the king in the North. She would marry some high lord or prince someday, but he would always loyally stand by her side. He didn't care if it meant enduring the pain of watching her fall in love with another man, having his children, and being his wife, he had gone years without Arya Stark, and he refused to live that life for one more day, even if it meant never being able to call her his.

As he turned his attention back to the extensive history of the Citadel, Arya stormed into the library, wiping tears from her face.

"Arya? What's wrong?" She gave him a horrible death glare before responding.

"Why don't you ask Jeyne Cerwyn?" She snarled with rage and venom oozing out of every word. He was confused and shocked at her attitude.

"What are you talking about?" Arya then pushed over a small little round table piled with books and he scrambled to his feet in surprise.

"GO!" She shouted and he furrowed his brows in concern and confusion.

"Arya, tell me what's wrong I want to help you— " She cut him off with a look that felt like a stab wound to his heart. It was a face that screamed rage and grief, but over all that, her face revealed that she was hurt.

"I said _go_." Gendry felt like his world was crashing down around him as he left the library that day. He almost went back to the forge to beat his sorrows out of him as he beat his hammer down on the hot metal, but he didn't have it in him. So he walked out to the godswood, knelt before the heart tree, and began to pray the same prayer he had whispered every day for years. It was not a song, nor a poem, or even a formal request. It was a name, one that he had thought he'd gotten back, but after the incident in the library, he wasn't so sure. So as he knelt before the ancient face of the weirwood, he whispered a prayer called Arya.

~

Sansa didn't pray, but she enjoyed the godswood. When she saw that it was being occupied by Gendry, she turned and decided to find comfort in the crypts. It was in those dark and solemn catacombs where she found, to her surprise, Ambrose was lighting a candle at Robb's empty tomb. She cleared her throat to make her presence known, and the Volantene lord turned and smiled at her.

"Lady Sansa, it's a pleasure to see you." The orange haired lady nodded at Ambrose.

"And you as well, Lord Ambrose. Might I ask, what are you doing down here?" Ambrose was smiling at her when she spoke. He turned his head back to Robb's tomb before looking back to her.

"I am paying my respects to my goodbrother." Sansa managed to gracefully walk over (despite the awkwardness of her protruding belly) to Robb's empty tomb and light a candle there with the one she held in her hand and noticed how her heart fluttered when she brushed past the Volantene lord. She had silenced that romantic part of herself when Joffrey ordered her father to be executed by decapitation, cursing herself for being so foolish as to trust a handsome face and a few chivalrous acts of kindness. But Joffrey had shown signs of being a cruel person, she had just overlooked them. Ambrose showed no such signs. _That only means he hides his cruelty better than Joffrey._ A voice creeped in from the back of her mind and filled her with distrusting thoughts, but were soon put to rest when he gave her an expectant but ever so patient look. _Ramsay was never patient._

"I guess I'm here to do the same." She gave a small laugh as she blew out the candle she held and discarded the stub of hardened wax into a stone pot next to Robb's tomb that held too many burnt out candle stubs. "Is there any other reason that you're down here other than paying respects to my brother's tomb?" Ambrose gave a small grin before responding.

"It's quiet down here. You know, it's not easy being so far away from Volantis and still having to closely advice my grandfather's every move as a triarch, all while helping the nurses raise my four year old sister." Sansa cocked her head to the side. She knew that Ambrose was a highborn of Volantis, but she didn't know that he was the grandson of a triarch.

"Who is your grandfather?" Ambrose smiled brightly before responding.

"Malaquo Maegyr. He is quite old, has barely any teeth left, and I'm sure that even if social expectations allowed his feet to touch the ground, he would not be able to walk. But the old man still rules Volantis, for some reason." For the first time in what must have been years, Sansa let out a true, full hearted laugh. It felt good to laugh and the gods knew that she hadn't been feeling much good as of late with the date of her delivery looming closer and closer. It now stood at roughly two weeks away. Her laughter died she she began to think about the birth of her son, and how she would be powerless to stop him from turning into another Ramsay. It was then that she noted the concerned look on Ambrose's face. But it was mixed with something else, something that looked quite like determination. Normally, a determined man might scare her, but she put her overthinking logic aside for that moment.

"What is it?" When Sansa asked the question, he tentatively stepped forward.

"You seemed like such a happy young woman for a moment there. I can't understand why anyone would ever want to take that away." She knew that it would be stupid to trust him with the truth of who exactly _did_ want to take away that happiness, but she found herself talking about it anyways.

"I'll never know _why_ he enjoyed stripping me of any dignity, trust, and joy, but I know that it was a favorite pastime of his." She joked bitterly. "A little more than 14 months ago, I was taken from the Eyrie all the way here, to Winterfell. At the time, my home was being manned by Boltons, who had butchered your sister, my brother, and his men at the red wedding. I was married to the legitimized bastard of Roose, Ramsay. I won't go into all the details of the things he liked to do to me, I'll give you that mercy. Up until our wedding night, he had acted as a good man. But he raped me that night and forced my father's former ward, the broken Theon Greyjoy, to watch. From that day forward, Ramsay beat me and tortured me in every way that he could as long as I could give him an heir. It happened every day before I escaped with Theon. We were a few miles outside of Winterfell when we were found and rescued by lady Brienne. She took me to castle Black at the wall where Jon sat as lord commander before our forces met my husband's army in the battle field. Ramsay had captured my youngest brother, Rickon, who had previously been thought to be dead, and used him as bait to lure Jon onto the open battlefield. He shot Rickon down and his forces charged. I don't know how Jon survived, or how he took back Winterfell, but I know hat he managed to do both successfully. Ramsay may have died that day, but a piece of him lives on. He's a part of me now. His son inside me is a constant reminder that despite all his losses, in the end, he won." Ambrose remained quiet the whole time, nodding and showing that he was listening closely. There was a bit of a silence after she finished before the Volantene lord spoke up.

"If I thought that I knew resilience before this day, I was sorely mistaken. Never have I seen knights or soldiers half as brave and strong as yourself. If I were to have gone through one day living a life like that, I would have thrown myself from a cliff." Sansa was surprised at his reaction. Most people didn't know how to respond, or would attempt to reassure her that everything would be okay. While kind words were always appreciated, she cared more for honesty. "Bearing Ramsay's child will be difficult, not just because of the pain. But you should remember that the child is yours as well. The babe in your belly is as much a Stark as he is a Bolton, perhaps not by name or law, but by the blood that runs through his veins." Sansa smiled softly as she thought about the truth to those words.

"He's kicking me. Would you like to feel?" As Ambrose placed a hand on the swell of her belly and felt the kicks of the last Bolton, Sansa imagined a life where the circumstances had been different. She imagined a life where Robb and Talisa hadn't been killed, where she would have been rescued by her brother from the capitol, where she and Ambrose would have met as they gazed upon their niece or nephew for the first time. She knew better than to fantasize for too long, but in that moment, as the handsome Volantene lord smiled sweetly at her belly where his hands lay, she relished in the ability to imagine a different life.

~

Arya skipped training that day and refused to speak to Gendry at meals. She noticed the way that Ambrose and Sansa looked at each other, the way that they smiled when their hands brushed against one another. It seemed a miracle when Sansa went into a fit of laughter at a joke that Ambrose told. She was happy for her sister. After all the unlucky and horrid matches that had been made for Sansa, she deserved a man as truly good and kind as Ambrose.

That night after supper, Arya skipped Gendry's tutoring lesson claiming that she was dealing with an awful headache. She supposed that she couldn't stay angry at him forever. He hadn't actually done anything wrong, not really. He had never married her, nor given her any implications that his heart belonged to her or anyone else for that matter. So the next day during training, she fully intended to be friendly and polite. But seeing him with disheveled hair and a grin on his face made her think of him with the Cerwyn bitch, all passionate kisses and heated touches, and she practically threw the hammer and shield at his feet.

"Arya, what are you— " She grabbed a longsword and began. He barely had time to put up his shield before she laid a heavy blow on it with the edge of her sword. She attacked viciously and allowed all of her hurt and anger to be poured into that one fight. Their weapons continued to clash as the hours of training dragged on before Gendry suddenly stopped. She couldn't figure out why until she heard her sisters voice.

"ARYA!" The younger lady Stark turned around to see her pregnant sister with a worried expression plastered all over her face. It was then that Arya noticed how dark the sky was, despite the fact that it was midday and how the yard was entirely empty save for herself, her sister, and the bastard knight. As the air began to chill her to her bones, she quickly put away her sword and shield before Sansa hurried over to her, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and hastily walked her into the castle, beckoning for Gendry to follow.

"What's going on?" Gendry demanded as he noticed the entirety of Winterfells occupants shuffled around the great hall. Two men bolted the great doors shut and Sansa called for everyone's attention. Arya was scared at the look on her sister's face as she sat by Bran and Meera. It was a look of panic and fear.

"Quiet down! Quiet down!" The great hall grew silent as all eyes settled on the pregnant lady hand. "Thank you. As many of you may know, there were white walkers spotted south of the wall recently. As you may also know, the Umbers were forced to flee the Last Hearth. According to reports from Deepwood Motte, there is a small army of white walkers coming in from the Wolfswood. For your own safety, we are all going to be staying in the great keep. We have assigned everyone rooms, and for those who have not received a room assignment, you will sleep here in the great hall until further notice. We will be staying in until the shipment of dragon glass arrives from Dragonstone. Until then, no one goes outside." There was lots of muttering and hushed conversations before Sansa spoke again in a grave tone of voice. "The long night has come. Winter is here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! So just for clarification, Gendry did NOT have sex with Jeyne Cerwyn. Someone else did, and they used the empty forge to do it. So there's been a bit of a twist! Also I have (finally) started building the romance between Sansa and Ambrose! When I first started this, I thought that Jonsa might happen, but when I came up with Ambrose's character, I fell in love with the idea of him and Sansa being together. I'm having so much fun writing this and I'm so glad to see people enjoying it! Thank you for reading and especially thank you if you left kudos or a comment:) Bye bye!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Gendry has a crisis, Arya saves her love, and things get hot amidst the freezing winds of winter.

Gendry grew more and more restless with each day that passed. No one was allowed to leave the great keep, not even to go down to the crypts or the godswood to pray. It had been four days since everyone was packed together in the great keep. It had been five days since Arya's meltdown. It had been three days since she had last spoken to him. He didn't know what he had done to offend her and he desperately wanted to find out before he drove himself mad. She had said something about Jeyne Cerwyn when she had her meltdown in the library. He decided that he would start there. He found Jeyne coming from the wine cellars with Micah Glover, giggling and half dressed.

"Jeyne, might I speak with you for a moment?" The blonde kitchen girl raised her eyebrows, but nodded anyways.

"What do you want?" She asked once they were in a quiet hallway.

"When was the last time that you interacted with lady Arya?" A knowing laugh came forth from Jeyne's mouth.

"I saw her the other day. She was walking towards the forge, I assume to see you, and she froze when she saw me coming out of it's little door. Then she threw something on the ground, and stormed off." Gendry shook his head in confusion.

"Hold on, why were you in the forge?" She gave a mischievous grin before responding.

"It was empty and that new kennel master and I needed someplace to be alone, preferably with a bed." She winked at the end of the sentence as Gendry tried to come to a logical conclusion.

"So why is she angry with me?" He muttered, mainly to himself, but Jeyne heard loud and clear before she cackled.

"Probably because she thinks that you fucked me." Gendry furrowed his brow and racked his brain.

"But why would that make her angry?" Jeyne looked at him as if the answer was obvious.

"Because she's head over her bloody heels for you! Are you so blind that you can't see it?" Gendry did a double take at the words. _Arya is attracted to me?_ No. She couldn't be. She was a highborn lady and he was a stupid bastard blacksmith whose only socially redeeming quality was his knighthood and his deceased father's royal status.

"Are you joking with me?" Jeyne rolled her brown eyes and placed a hand on her hip.

"Do I look like a bloody jester? No I'm not joking! Now go and fix your problems with your lady love and you can thank me when you're done." And with that, Jeyne Cerwyn turned on her heel and left him standing there dumbstruck before he decided that he needed to act right then and there.

He was almost at Arya's chambers, he just needed to round a corner and at the end of the hall that heavy oak door would be waiting. He then stopped as he heard two people talking. He quickly identified the voices as those belonging to Sansa and Ser Edric Dayne.

"Are you sure she won't be opposed to the match?" Edric asked. Gendry smiled as he thought who the purple eyed knight of the kingsguard was talking about. He was a good and kind man, whoever he might marry would be a lucky woman.

"She's not nearly as willful as she once was. It may take time and convincing, but I'm sure that my sister will accept your marriage proposal." Gendry's heart stopped before he began to feel himself becoming consumed by rage and jealousy. He almost stormed off in a huff before he heard the heavy oak door to Arya's chambers creak open. When she spoke, it felt like a knife was twisting in his heart.

"Ser Edric, Sansa, what's going on?" Gendry felt tears sting in his eyes as he heard Edric ask for her hand in marriage. He felt like he might vomit if he stayed to hear her accept. And his heart shattered into a thousand pieces when he realized that she would move down to Starfall with him in Dorne when Jon would go under the protection of Daenerys' queensguard, needing the purple eyed kingsguard knight no more.

All that was on Gendry's mind was that he couldn't lose Arya. He knew that this day would come when she would be promised to some high lord or prince, but he never imagined that it would be to that rat bastard _Edric Dayne._ He had to get away from all the people, but every hallway he went down to get privacy, he felt eyes on him. So he snuck down the back servants staircase, grabbed a heavy cloak, and went outside into the blizzard.

~

Arya didn't want to marry Edric Dayne. But he was good looking and he was a good friend and knight, so she knew that she wouldn't be able to do much better. But then she remembered her injury from the Waif in Braavos, and kept the delight out of her voice when she declined his proposal due to the fact that she couldn't bear children. She had felt a tinge of guilt when she watched the kindsguard's face fall.

"I understand. Thank you for your honesty, my lady." As the knight left with Sansa, Arya felt a deep and sudden loneliness. She realized in that moment that missed her knighted bastard blacksmith. She wanted him back, even if only as a friend. So she decided to seek out Gendry to make amends with him. He had been hanging around the library as of late, so she started by walking there.

"Gendry. I know that I haven't been fair to you these past few days, and I want to apologize. You didn't do anything wrong, not truly, but I still felt betrayed? Oh gods no, cut that bit. Gendry. I know I haven't been fair to you these past few days and I want to apologize. Just recently, I was asked to marry Ser Edric Dayne, but I am unable to bear children. I hope that someday you will find someone who can make you happy. Maybe she'll be Jeyne Cerwyn, maybe she'll come in the form of a series of whores, or maybe she'll even be a high lady or princess. But whatever happens, just know that I will always love you. That sounds good." Arya stopped talking to herself as she stood in front of the open door to the library. She looked around the room and found nothing but Ghost and Nymeria curled up together in a corned, asleep. She almost left the room, but something in her gut told her to look out the window. As she approached the glass panes, she felt an odd sense of impending doom. When she opened the window, the shocking and harsh winds of winter hit her hard before she looked down into the blizzard below.

She screamed his name when she saw him outside, trudging through the snow and heading for the godswood. In three minutes time, she had thrown on a light blue cloak and was out of the castle, armed with a sword of dragon glass, going to the godswood to save the man she loved.

~

Gendry knelt by the heart tree and he felt the tears freezing on his cheeks. He didn't care. He didn't care about anything. Arya was going to leave him and he would be empty and alone again. He always imagined that she would stay at Winterfell. How could he be so stupid?

It was in that moment that Gendry noticed that he couldn't see much into the distance but snow and he realized with an odd sort of calm that he was going to die. He might as well die in a place where he felt familiarity. He clasped his hands together and shut his eyes one last time before whispering her name to the twisted face of the weirwood.

He could have sworn that he heard the tree hissing a response. As he knelt there, he got cold. Too cold. His vision started going blurry and his body went numb.

He was barely conscious when he could have sworn that he heard a girl calling his name.

A girl with dark hair and fair skin was blurry in the distance, running towards him through the blizzard.

The girl shook him.

The hissing of the old gods got louder. 

She screamed his name.

The old gods appeared before him in the distance in the form of icy corpses.

She slung his arm over her shoulders and dragged him away.

He was numb until the girl laid him down on a bed in a room that felt so very, very warm.

Then everything went dark.

~

After Arya had lain Gendry down on his bed among the furs and blankets in his back room chambers, she had bolted the door's lock to the forge shut and gave a silent prayer of unimaginable gratitude that she was able to use the nearly finished/half finished weaponry to bar the door, as the lock wouldn't be enough to stop the white walkers.

She looked around the forge for anything that might serve as goods for survival. There was plenty of weaponry, but beyond that, the forge didn't bear much fruit for living. So she went into the back room, thanking the gods that her brother— _cousin_ —had persuaded Gendry to allow the builders to improve the size and quality of his chambers. Better to keep the heat in. She hurried around the room and took mental notes of all that could help. She found three jugs of water next to his table that could last them about two weeks. Three, if they rationed well enough. She rummaged through his wardrobe and found three jars filled to the brim with nuts and blackberries. One of them had a note written in Sansa's hand that said "Thank you for the work you've done. Take this as a gift." They seemed to be in good eating condition. She found a box with bandages, soap, and a vial filled with milk of the poppy in his wardrobe as well. There was enough wood by the fireplace to last a good month, so she grabbed the flint on the modest mantel piece and piled kindling and chopped logs into the fireplace before lighting it. The fire began to roar after the tended it with the bellows for a minute. She thought about what she needed to do next. _Gendry!_

She ran over to where he lay amidst the furs and blankets and knelt at his bedside. Arya grabbed his hand and pressed two fingers to his wrist. She exhaled a sigh of relief as she felt a pulse. She began to strip him of his cold and wet clothes until his was down to his small clothes. She bundled him in the furs and blankets, watching him mutter nonsense as he slept. As she gazed upon him, cold, unconscious, and helpless, she started to pray. She began to think back to when Bran had fallen out of the broken tower and their mother had stayed by his side for weeks before he woke up. She prayed that he would wake before it came to even one week.

~

It was two days before Gendry woke up. That is, for longer than three minutes at a time, and without screaming unintelligible gibberish. Arya had taken to falling asleep next to him to keep warm when the fire went out at night. It was early morning, but it was hard to tell due to the fact that all the windows had been boarded up and the only source of light were half burnt candles and the dwindling fire in the fireplace. As he stood on the floor, Arya, who was kneeling next to the fireplace, whipped around to face him.

"Are you well?" She stood slowly before approaching him. He shrugged.

"I'm a bit sore." The hint of a smile danced across Arya's lips.

"That's to be expected when you've been in bed for two days." He wasn't all that surprised to hear about how long he'd been asleep.

"Is there any food?" Arya pointed to the fireplace where he hadn't noticed two squirrels being roasted.

"That's all that I could get from today's hunt." She paused, as if uncertain what to say next. "It's not safe here anymore." Gendry furrowed his brows.

"Why not?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Do you remember what happened in the godswood?" He racked his brain, trying to remember. All that he came up with was a numb feeling, hissing, and then warmth.

"What happened?" Arya's grey eyes got a distant look in them as she responded.

"The whitewalkers are here. They almost got you. I was able to get you out in time, but just barely. Today was safe enough to hunt on the outskirts of the godswood, so they appear to have retreated back into the wolfswood. Winterfell's walls were built to withstand the winter wars, so everyone in the great keep is safe. But we won't be safe in the forge for long." Gendry didn't know how bad the storm was, but he assumed that if Arya could go hunting in the godswood, then it was safe enough to get to the great keep.

"Then let's go to the great keep. I'm well enough to go, what's stopping us?" Arya shook her head.

"I already tried. Yesterday, you woke up delirious and I went to get you a healer. The doors are barred, and I assume they take any banging on them to be white walkers trying to get in, as no one opened the doors to let me in. I was out there for an hour before I went back in." It was then that Gendry noticed the packed bag.

"What's this?" He asked as he pointed to it. She inhaled shakily.

"It's for you." Gendry furrowed his brow in confusion.

"What for?" She turned away from him as she responded, but he could hear the shaking in her voice.

"You need to leave Winterfell." She spoke quietly. His heart seemed to break into a million pieces when he realized what this meant. He remembered the words exchanged between Sansa, Edric, and Arya. _She's betrothed to the Dayne knight. She wants me gone._

"Where would I go?" Arya picked up the pack and practically shoved it into his hands.

"Wintertown should be safe. The people there are hospitable, they'll give you a bed and some food for a few nights. Head to the White Harbor. Go east. Get away from Westeros, there's nothing but death and horror here. Maybe you'll be able to find happiness in Essos." Gendry felt himself getting angry. He hurt so much because of Arya, he was angry that he ever let himself fall in love.

"Why would I leave? My place is in Winterfell! Not all of us are lucky enough to be raised with our parents and siblings! I built a family here, I found a brother in Jon and a sister in Sansa, you can't expect me to leave that behind!" Arya turned to face him, tears streaming down her face.

"Jon isn't here! Sansa's going to be a mother soon, she won't have time for anyone but her son! What's left for you at Winterfell?" She snapped through her tears.

" _YOU!_ " Her grey eyes widened in shock, but he didn't stop to let her respond. Years of emotion began pouring out of his mouth before he could stop it. "For years I lived my life only for the memory of _you_ burned into my mind! You were the only person who had ever shown me what it was like to be loved, what it meant to be family, and I left you. I had regretted letting myself be sold to the red woman, but when I heard that you had been slaughtered at the red wedding, I blamed myself! I rowed my little boat all around Westeros living to find anything that reminded me of you because every time I found something that reminded me of you, it felt like I was breathing life into your memory! Do you know how many times I was offered a permanent home and steady work? I lost count, because every time someone asked me to stay I refused because I couldn't let myself forget about the little lady Stark who I abandoned for some phony brotherhood. When I first saw Jon being attacked by one of Cersei's soldiers, I didn't save him because I saw myself in the bloodied man, I saved him because I saw you in his eyes! Killing that Lannister and saving Jon made me feel like I was saving you, and I hadn't felt so alive in my life. When I told Jon that I had known you, he let me in closer than he let anyone with whom he didn't share blood. And when you showed up six weeks ago on that horse with your skinny little sword and your shining grey eyes, I felt like nothing I had ever felt before. I love you Arya Stark, and I have for the past five years of my life, and I will continue to love you until the day that I die." There was a heavy silence while she took it all in. He spoke again. "I went to Jeyne Cerwyn. I want you to know that it wasn't me who was with her in the forge that day. And I heard enough of your conversation with Ser Edric the other day to know that you two are getting married. And I want you to know that... as hard as it might be... I want more than anything for you to be happy. And I know that I'm only a bastard blacksmith, and he's heir to Starfall. So if he can make you happy, then— " He was cut short as Arya's lips crashed against his. He was surprised at first, but that surprise quickly gave way to an overwhelming desire. He kissed her back with passion before he came to his senses and pulled away. "You're betrothed to Ser Edric." Arya shook her head.

"You've done enough talking, now it's time for you to listen. You obviously didn't hear enough of that conversation, because I turned down his proposal." In that moment, Gendry realized that he had never felt happier. "I never thought that I would ever be saying this. I always told myself, when I was a girl, that I would never be a high lady who would fall for a gallant knight in shining armor. Of course, you're a knight who makes the shining armor instead of wearing it, and I've been everything but a high lady in recent years. But nonetheless, here I am, a high lady confessing my love for a gallant knight." She looked at her feet, blushing, and he cleared his throat.

"What exactly are you saying?" Arya looked up at him, any trace of nervousness or uncertainty gone from her grey eyes, replaced by pure determination.

"I love you Gendry." Those words were all it took to convince him. This time, he was the one to initiate the kiss. Her lips were soft and they fit like pieces of a puzzle with his.

_(warning: The following part of this chapter is what gives this fic it's mature level rating, so if you don't like smut, skip to the next chapter. Also, the POV gets kind of tossed around here. That was done on purpose)_

Their lips moved in perfect synchronization, as if they were made for each other. Gendry had kissed girls before in King's Landing. But none of them could ever compare to kissing Arya. It felt like he had discovered his life's purpose as he pulled her closer to him. When he swiped his tongue across her lower lip, her tongue began to dance with his and he felt every inch of his body light on fire. An overwhelming desire took over his better judgment as he began to walk her backwards until they fell down onto his bed, never breaking their kiss. As she began to trail kisses down his neck, her fingers grasped the hem of his tunic before she pulled it over his head, leaving him topless. She had seen him shirtless before, in fact, she had seen him shirtless multiple times within the past couple days of caring for him. But she had never really looked for too long to notice. He was _very_ muscular. She had seen muscular men without shirts before. She'd seen _a lot_ of muscular men without shirts in Braavos, but she never thought that seeing Gendry's bare and toned chest could inspire such a powerful lust within her. In truth, she had never done more than kiss a few people in Braavos on faceless assignments, but she had seen whores preform their trade, in both Westeros and Braavos, and she knew exactly what to do to make Gendry unravel.

He almost stopped her as she trailed kisses down his torso and began undo the laces of his breeches. She was a lady of Winterfell, and he was a baseborn bastard blacksmith, doing... _things_ would only bring dishonor upon both of them. But when she sat up and removed her own tunic, revealing her perky and pomegranate sized breasts, he found himself forgetting the thoughts of dishonor and shame. She grinned wickedly at him before removing his breeches and small clothes in one quick motion. His manhood, already rock hard, sprung free and her eyes widened.

It was huge. She had felt it against her backside before when they had slept next to each other, so she knew that it was big, but she wasn't expecting it to be _that_ big. Nevertheless, it only excited her more. As she started to move her left hand up and down his cock, he threw his head back, clutched the sheets and moaned. After a few seconds of pumping his manhood, she placed her lips on the head of his cock and swirled her tongue around the slit. As he moaned her name, she took more of his length into her mouth, seeing how far she could go without choking. She thought back to seeing whores in brothels take men in their mouths, and she lightly grabbed his balls. Right move. He groaned in pleasure before he sat up and she removed her mouth from his manhood. She furrowed her brows, confused, as he hadn't yet finished.

"My turn." He flipped her over so that she was beneath him and she helped him wriggle her out of her leather leggings. He peppered kisses along the inside of her thighs before his lips met her center. She gasped as his tongue travelled up the length of her sex, and her whole body trembled as his tongue reached her little bundle of nerves. Taking note of the sensitive spot, he began to suck on her clit. She moaned his name as her hips bucked and he grinned against her sex. He brought his tongue down from her clit, wanting to taste her entirely. He moved his tongue in and out of her, enjoying every moan, every sigh, and every tremble. With one final swipe of his tongue down the length of her sex, Arya reached her peak, shaking and moaning as she rode out the pleasure. When it was finished, he brought his lips back up to hers so she might taste herself on his tongue. After a few more moments of their tongues battling for dominance, she put a hand on his chest and pushed ever so slightly. His mouth left hers and she looked him straight in the eye with that same determination that she had when she had confessed that she loved him.

"Make love to me Gendry." He gulped, thinking about the repercussions of love making.

"What if I you got you pregnant?" Arya pushed his shoulders back until he was kneeling. She sat up and gestured to four faint scars on her lower left abdomen.

"These are from a woman in Braavos. She stabbed me multiple times, but I killed her the next day. They're entirely healed now, but I doubt my womb will be able to support life. I won't get pregnant." Gendry nodded, suddenly a lot more confident knowing that he wouldn't be able to put a bastard in her belly. "So, I say again," She pulled him by the shoulders so that he was once more on top of her. "Make love to me Gendry." He situated himself at her entrance, and looked into her grey eyes for final assurance. She nodded her head slightly as he moved into her.

It wasn't painful, so much as uncomfortable. But she assured him that it was okay to keep going. As he began to thrust into her more quickly, she experienced a sharp sting, and she knew that her maidenhead was broken. A few thrusts after, and the pain was replaced by immense pleasure. She started moaning and sighing, digging her nails into his back, which would surely leave marks later on. She brought her fingers down to her clit and began rubbing in circular motions. When she reached her peak for the second time, she relished in the fact that Gendry was riding out his pleasure at the exact same moment.

He laid down next to her, panting and grinning. He had never felt such euphoria in his life, and he doubted that he ever would. He turned on his side to face her and found that she was already looking at him.

"I love you." He said before she leaned over and gave him a quick and chaste kiss.

"I love you too." She replied before he leaned over and kissed her sweetly. He wanted to stay like that forever. Staring into her grey eyes, kissing, fucking, and resting. He never wanted to leave that bed.

"Will you marry me?" Arya's eyes didn't widen in shock or surprise, nor did she hesitate. She smiled softly before nodding.

"Yes." She whispered. His face broke into an enormous and giddy grin.

"Then I'll ask Jon for legitimization when he returns." Arya grinned and she leaned over to give him a sweet kiss.

"Your father will finally get what he so desperately wanted." Gendry furrowed his brows in confusion.

"What do you mean?" Arya shifted herself and Gendry as she turned her back to him and snuggled into him.

"King Robert wanted to join our houses by marrying his son to my father's daughter. Now it will finally happen." With that thought in mind, Gendry draped his arm over Arya's waist, and the pair drifted off to sleep. Right before he fell into unconsciousness, a thought came to his head and he smiled.

_Thank you Jeyne Cerwyn._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! So I built this entire fic around a part of this chapter and I can't believe that I've finally reached it! I came up with the part of Arya saying "What's left for you in Winterfell?" and Gendry exploding and shouting "YOU!" I also haven't ever written smut before, so that was stepping out of my comfort zone, but it's always good to test your limits and try new things when writing. Thank you for reading and especially thank you if you left kudos or a comment! Bye bye!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which white walkers attack, Jon returns, and Sansa gives birth.

It had been two days since Arya and Gendry went missing. Sansa was beyond worried, and feared the worst. She refused to believe that her only sister and the man who she practically considered to be her brother might be wights, but it was coming to a point where it was stupid to cling to the notion that they might be okay. Ambrose had been supporting her heavily, being by her side every minute of every hour. She would be forever grateful to that Volantene lord for being strong while she panicked. As if she didn't already have enough to worry about with only five days left until she would give birth. She wanted to send out a search party, but Ambrose reminded her of the threat of the white walkers and how futile the effort would be.

As Sansa sat on her bed in her chambers reading a book about the Targaryen conquest to distract herself from her thoughts, she heard a knock at the door.

"Who's there?" She closed the book and put it aside.

"It's me." A deep voice with a Volantene accent replied.

"Come in." She said and her... her... whatever they were, entered her chambers and sat down next to her.

"How are you holding up?" Sansa sighed and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Well, I've had horrible lower back pain all day, my sister and brother-in-practice are still missing, white walkers have been spotted in the godswood, and Jon is _still_ gone. So, apart from all that, I'm doing quite well." Ambrose gave a short and quiet chuckle before he put an arm around her shoulders and began stroking her orange hair.

"They'll come back. Don't worry." Sansa took a shaky breath.

"We don't know that." Ambrose sighed and nodded his head.

"You're right. We don't." There was a pause before Sansa got up and managed to walk gracefully over to the window, despite her enormously round belly. Ambrose walked up behind her, making his footsteps loud so as not to surprise. She appreciated that. He carefully and gently wrapped his arms over her chest as they looked down into the blizzard below, Sansa was able to make out two figures walking hand in hand through the snow towards the great hall. Her blue eyes went wide as she made out skeletal figures emerging from the godswood behind them, and she screamed her sisters' name, only to have the words carried away with the wind.

The orange haired lady lifted her skirts and began to hurry as fast as she could down the steps before she felt a trickle of a clear fluid streaming down her leg. She turned around to face Ambrose.

"What's happening? Why are you stopping?" She swallowed hard, tears beginning to pool in her eyes.

"My water has broken. It's time."

~

After they had made love twice more, Arya and Gendry had decided that they should get back to the great keep, if only so as to not worry Sansa. Gendry had playfully called Arya stupid for not thinking to go in through the back servant doors the first time she tried to get in. She had "playfully" smacked him upside the head for it.

The pair stopped in front of the back door to the kitchen. Arya reached for the doorknob, but Gendry place his gloved hand on top of hers. She brought her grey eyes up to his and she furrowed her brows.

"What's wrong love?" Gendry inhaled deeply.

"What are we going to tell Sansa?" Arya pursed her lips and looked up before shrugging.

"We'll tell her the truth." Gendry's eyes went wide with terror at the prospect of telling Sansa that he fucked her little sister mercilessly three times in the past four hours when Arya laughed. Gendry sighed in relief.

"Are you fucking serious? I nearly had a heart attack just thinking about that!" Arya doubled over in her fit of laughing before standing up straight, still smiling and looking into his electric blue eyes.

"Oh, come off it, you love me." Gendry smiled as he took her by the waist while she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Well, you're right about that." After they kissed, Arya went to open the door, only to find it had been locked.

"That's a bit odd. We can try the great doors. Perhaps this time they'll let us in." Gendry nodded and the pair went hand in hand towards the great hall. Once they reached the doors, they began banging.

" _LADY ARYA! SER GENDRY!_ " The pair looked up to see lord Ambrose leaning out of the window from Sansa's chambers, far above them, frantically gesturing behind them. The pair turned in unison to see an army of white walkers speeding towards them from far away. Arya looked into Gendry's eyes, grey on blue, and they knew it was hopeless to try and get into the great hall.

"Together." They whispered in unison before wrapping their arms around each other and shutting their eyes tight.

There was no sound.

There no pain.

There was nothing but cold.

 

And then there was heat.

Gendry dared to open his eyes and fell to his knees in inexplicable gratitude as he saw King Jon Snow sitting atop a green dragon, raining fire down on the small army of wights and white walkers, destroying them all.

~

Within twenty four hours, Queen Daenerys had used Drogon and Viserion to wipe out the threat of the white walkers and wights north of Winterfell, while Jon had eliminated the armies that had gotten into Winterfell and past the Wolfswood.

Three hours after the Northern King's auspicious and early arrival back at his ancestral home, his feet were on the ground, and he was ushered inside by two midwives in training with barely any time to have a proper reunion with Bran or an intimidating introduction with Ambrose. Arya was with her orange haired sister, holding her hand and whispering words of encouragement as Jon came into the birthing room. Sansa was sweating and she looked impossibly tired, but he couldn't care less. Both of his sisters were alive and well.

"Sansa, Arya," He had barely spoken their names before Arya had knocked him to the ground with a fierce hug. As he stood back up, he hurried over to Sansa's side. She gave a faint smile.

"Hello Jon." He smiled brightly at his orange haired lady hand and affectionately stroked her messy hair.

"You look like shit." She rolled her eyes and half heartedly slapped his arm.

"Good to see too." In that moment, Lira Manderly strode into the room, and Jon was shocked to see how powerfully she took control of everything, as she was normally quiet as a mouse.

"Welcome home, your grace, it is spectacular to have you back. This reunion is being cut short however, as this is no place for men. Go." Jon shook his head adamantly.

"I'm going to be here for my sister." Lira rolled her eyes.

"Trust me, your grace, you don't want to see what will happen to your sister when she's in the throws of— "

"AAAAAAAGH!" Sansa gripped Jon's arm tighter than he had thought humanly possible as Lira coached her breathing and counted the seconds that went by while Sansa endured a contraction.

"That was thirty three seconds. You're doing wonderful, lady Sansa. I'm going to check how far along you are down there as soon as I can get your brother to leave." Lira glared at Jon on the last sentence before he finally left the room after giving Sansa a kiss on the forehead.

He waited for five long and horrid hours as he listened to Sansa's screams and cries of pain through the thin walls. He got to know Lord Ambrose Maegyr a bit. They were talking about Sansa when Ambrose got flustered.

"Your grace, I don't know exactly how I should phrase this." Jon shrugged.

"Just tell me, my lord." Ambrose nodded, and straightened his back.

"Your grace, over these past six weeks I have developed a deep admiration and fascination with lady Sansa. She truly is a remarkable woman." Jon raised his chin.

"What are you saying?" Ambrose inhaled deeply before responding.

"If she'll have me, I wish to marry your sister." Jon mulled over the thought for a minute. Ambrose did truly seem like the kind, chivalrous, and loving man that Sansa had always dreamed about growing up. She deserved to be happy, and it seemed that he could give her that happiness.

"You're not only asking for Sansa, you know. Right now, in that room, she's giving birth to another man's son. If you marry her, you take in her child. Are you prepared to take on the role of becoming a husband _and_ a father?" Ambrose gave a soft smile as he nodded his head of jet black curls.

"I am." Jon smiled as he extended his hand to the Volantene lord.

"Then congratulations, my friend. If she'll have you, you will soon be my sister's husband." At that moment, Sansa screamed louder than ever before and both men whipped their heads around and looked anxiously at the closed door to the birthing room.

~

Sansa hated childbirth.

She hated Ramsay Bolton for raping her, she hated that he planted his seed, that he cursed her with a son, and left her with unwanted anxieties and nightmares. But more than all of that hate combined, she hated childbirth. Arya being there made it bearable, but just barely.

"I just want you to give one last push lady Sansa, alright? And then you're done!" The knowledge that the end was so close gave her strength to push with all her might and scream as loud as her vocal chords would allow. And then another voice joined the chorus. The voice of a squalling newborn.

"Congratulations, my lady. You have a daughter!" Sansa couldn't believe the sheer amount of absolute euphoric bliss that overpowered her as Lira placed her daughter on her chest. _A daughter._

She had a full head of thick, orange hair and bright river blue eyes. Sansa was so stunned that she didn't even notice when Arya cut the cord that joined them with a knife. Her daughter's cries were the most magnificent sound that she had ever heard. More magical than any song or instrument could ever be.

"She looks just like you." Arya said through a few tears.

"She's my daughter." Sansa whispered in spellbound disbelief. A deliriously giddy grin erupted on her face. "This is my daughter!" As if her babe understood, she giggled and Sansa's heart melted.

The rest of the day involved everyone coming in, holding her, playing with her, and every time, someone was handing her back to her mother. It was now night time and Sansa was gazing down lovingly at her perfect babe, asleep in her arms with her sister cuddled up next to her in Sansa's bed.

"You know, Cersei Lannister once told me something when I was expected to have Joffrey's children." She whispered.

"What was it?" Arya gently stroked her niece's hair.

"She said to me, _'You may not love him, but you will love his children._ She was right. I've never loved anyone the way that I love her." Arya smiled sweetly.

"Have you thought of a name yet?" Sansa nodded, her eyes never leaving her daughter's sleeping face.

"Catelyn. Lady Catelyn Bolton." Arya felt tears beginning to pool in her grey eyes as she and her sister locked their gazes upon each other.

"Mother would be proud." Sansa nodded.

"I know." As Arya left to back to her chambers that night where Gendry was waiting for her, she felt a liveliness and love inside her that she didn't know was possible until that afternoon when she became an aunt to the littlest lady, Catelyn Bolton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy moly I have been cranking out these chapters so frequently lately! This is like, my third update in three days if I'm not mistaken! So the next couple chapters will be mini epilogues before I start writing the sequel which is about the next generation. AKA almost all original characters lol whoops. So I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I can't believe how quickly I finished this fic! I posted the first chapter not even two months ago and now I'm almost over! Anyways, I should get to bed because it's 4:24 in the morning and I need to get to sleep. Thank you for reading and especially thank oh if you left kudos or a comment! Bye bye!


	13. EPILOGUE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which our story ends.

It had been eight weeks since Sansa gave birth to Catelyn. It had been seven weeks since Ambrose asked for her hand. It had been four weeks since they witnessed Gendry's legitimization. And today they were leaving for Volantis.

"King Jon, Queen Daenerys, I bid thee farewell. And Lady Arya. I cannot express the utmost gratitude that I have for you for allowing me to come into your home, a complete stranger, and live as your honored guest. Thank you for continuing to foster my sister while Sansa and I go east. I will never forget my time at Winterfell. Thank you." Sansa grinned before rolling her eyes.

"I take it that it would be quite hard to forget Winterfell when your wife is a souvenir." The Volantene lord laughed at his wife's joke before kissing her forehead.

After the birth of her daughter and her betrothal to Ambrose, the light had come back into Sansa's life. Arya had almost forgotten what her sister's smile had looked like before the Volantene lord came into their lives. She was happy for her sister. She would be an excellent mother and a wonderful wife. However, that didn't stop Arya from wishing that she would stay a little while longer.

"I'm going to miss you, Sansa." Her orange haired sister nodded, tears beginning to pool in her river blue eyes.

"I'll miss you too, Arya." The Stark sisters embraced each other, Arya's arms around Sansa's waist and one of Sansa's arms around Arya's neck. Her other arm was occupied by holding little Cat. They separated, wiping away stray tears.

"Don't stay away for too long, alright?" The orange haired lady nodded.

"We'll be back. Don't you worry." As Arya and the rest of the Winterfell inhabitants watched their lady leave with her newborn daughter and soon to be husband, she wondered how many years would come and go before she would see her sister again. Little did she know, it would only be nine months before Sansa and Ambrose would return to Westeros to meet their little nephew.

~

It had been four weeks since Gendry's legitimization. It had been three weeks since he was officially named Lord of Storm's End and Lord paramount of the Stormlands. It had been two weeks since he asked for Jon's blessing to marry Arya. It had been one week since they were married before the heart tree.

Gendry was still working the forge. He said that it helped him clear his mind, but it also helped him stay humble. He was not about to become the kind of lord that had looked down on baseborn bastards like him his whole life. He stayed modest by spending his days in the forge, and spending his nights with Arya in her chambers.

He was in the middle of making a breastplate for Brienne when his wife entered. She leaned against the doorframe and waited for him to finish. He appreciated that she respected his need to stay focused and not lose his rhythm. When the job was done three minutes later, he turned to his wife who was grinning from ear to ear.

"I have some news for you." He cocked his head before wiping off his hands and walking over to her.

"What news is that?" She kissed him softly on the mouth before breaking away and leaning against a work bench, facing him.

"You know how I was being checked by a healer today to see what's been making me ill?" Gendry nodded as her smile widened. "I'm not ill, Gendry." She placed a hand on her lower abdomen and Gendry's eyes went wide.

"Wait— you mean— you're— " She nodded her head excitedly as he placed his hands on her hips and dropped to his knees so he was eye level with her abdomen.

"Mhmm!" He broke into a giddy smile and stared in amazement at her belly.

"How is this possible? I thought you couldn't have children?" Arya shrugged.

"The healer said that the stab wounds were actually quite far from my womb. We're going to have a baby, Gendry." He kisses her belly before standing up and kissing her lips.

"I'm going to be a father." He whispered in disbelief.

"And I'm going to be a mother." And in that moment, it seemed that everything was right in the world. And for once, everything truly was.

~

I am sorry to say that this is where our story ends. But with every ending there comes a new beginning. The sequel for _The Prayer Called Arya_ will have its first chapter up within the next week. If you're interested in seeing where all the characters and their children end up, look out for _By Blood and Law_ , a story about the next generation, set nineteen years after this ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we've made it to the end! I can't believe how fast this went by, I expected it to take four months at the very least to write. There will be a part two of this series that will feature the next generation, set nineteen years after this story's end. The sequel fic is going to be a lot more complex and long than it's predecessor, so I (and hopefully you!) have that to look forward to in the near future! I've been doing lots of prep work for this fic, so I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for reading to the end and especially thank you if you left kudos or a comment! Bye bye:)


End file.
